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THE  ABBE  CONSTANTIN 


LUDOVIC  HALEVY 


OF  THE  ACADEMIE  FRANCAISE 


THE  ABBE  CONSTANTIN 


ILLUSTRATED  BY 

MADAME  MADELEINE  LEMAIRE 


NEW  YORK 

DODD,  MEAD,  AND  COMPANY 
1905. 


2^  5W\ 
(^05 


©ntbrrsitg  Press; 

John  Wilson  and  Son,  Cambridge. 


V 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


Page 

The  Domain  for  Sale 9 

The  Cure’s  Garden 15 

News  of  the  Sale 23 

The  Castle  of  Longueval 34 

Arrival  at  the  Vicarage 35 

Pauline  and  Jean 49 

In  the  Garden 53 

Mrs.  Scott  and  Bettina 55 

Dinner  at  the  Vicarage 57 

Mrs.  Scott  arranging  Bettina’s  Hair 65 

In  the  Cemetery 79 

Bettina  playing  the  Harmonium 81 

The  Hundred  Louis 83 

At  the  Opera 91 

Jean’s  Study 95 

The  Cure  Praying 98 

“ Mazette  ! ” 99 

The  Confession . . . . 111 

Leaving  the  Railway  Station 117 

“Good-by,  my  Lovers!” 122 

The  Drawing-room  at  Longueval  123 


14L12L6 


8 


List  of  Illustrations. 


Page 

On  the  Terrace 133 

Mrs.  Scott  and  her  Children 137 

Bettina  at  the  Balcony . 140 

The  Ride 141 

The  First  Tete-A-tete ....  , 147 

Child  and  Pony 152 

At  the  Ball  . 153 

“ It  is  Raining  ! ” 165 

Bettina’s  Room 173 

Rain  and  Wind 179 

Good  by  ! 183 

Bettina  at  the  Vicarage  185 

Will  it  be  Fine?  187 

The  First  Kiss . 209 

The  Wedding  .213 


THE  ABBE  CONSTANTIN. 


CHAPTER  I. 

7ITH  a step  still  valiant  and  firm,  an  old  priest 
* * walked  along  the  dusty  road  in  the  full  rays  of  a 
brilliant  sun.  For  more  than  thirty  years  the  Abbe  Con- 
stantin had  been  cure  of  the  little  village  which  slept  there 
in  the  plain,  on  the  banks  of  a slender  stream  called  La 
Lizotte. 

The  Abbe  Constantin  was  walking  by  the  wall  which 
surrounded  the  park  of  the  castle  of  Longueval ; at  last 
he  reached  the  entrance  gate,  which  rested  high  and 
massive  on  two  ancient  pillars  of  stone,  embrowned  and 


IO 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


gnawed  by  time.  The  Cure  stopped  and  mournfully  re- 
garded two  immense  blue  posters  fixed  on  the  pillars. 

The  posters  announced  that  on  Wednesday,  May  18, 
1 88 1,  at  one  o’clock  p.  m.,  would  take  place,  before  the 
Civil  Tribunal  of  Souvigny,  the  sale  of  the  domain  of 
Longueval,  divided  into  four  lots. 

1.  The  castle  of  Longueval,  its  dependencies,  fine  pieces 
of  water,  extensive  offices,  park  of  one  hundred  and  fifty 
hectares  in  extent,  completely  surrounded  by  a wall,  and 
traversed  by  the  little  river  Lizotte.  Valued  at  six 
hundred  thousand  francs. 

2.  The  farm  of  Blanche-Couronne,  three  hundred  hec- 
tares, valued  at  five  hundred  thousand  francs. 

3.  The  farm  of  La  Rozeraie,  two  hundred  and  fifty 
hectares,  valued  at  four  hundred  thousand  francs. 

4.  The  woods  and  forests  of  La  Mionne,  containing 
four  hundred  and  fifty  hectares,  valued  at  five  hundred 
and  fifty  thousand  francs. 

And  these  four  amounts  added  together  at  the  foot  of 
the  bill  gave  the  respectable  sum  of  two  millions  and 
fifty  thousand  francs. 

Then  they  were  really  going  to  dismember  this  magnifi- 
cent domain,  which,  escaping  all  mutilation,  had  for  more 
than  two  centuries  always  been  transmitted  intact  from 
father  to  son  in  the  family  of  Longueval.  The  placards  also 
announced  that  after  the  temporary  division  into  four  lots 
it  would  be  possible  to  unite  them  again,  and  offer  for 
sale  the  entire  domain ; but  it  was  a very  large  morsel,  and 
to  all  appearance  no  purchaser  would  present  himself. 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


1 1 


The  Marquise  de  Longueval  had  died  six  months  before. 
In  1873  she  had  lost  her  only  son,  Robert  de  Longueval; 
the  three  heirs  were  the  grandchildren  of  the  Marquise, 
Pierre,  Helene,  and  Camille.  It  had  been  found  neces- 
sary to  offer  the  domain  for  sale,  as  Helene  and  Camille 
were  minors.  Pierre,  a young  man  of  three-and-twenty, 
had  lived  rather  fast,  was  already  half-ruined,  and  could 
not  hope  to  redeem  Longueval. 

It  was  midday.  In  an  hour  it  would  have  a new  mas- 
ter, this  old  castle  of  Longueval ; and  this  master,  who 

would  he  be?  What  woman  would  take  the  place  of  the 
old  Marquise  in  the  chimney  corner  of  the  grand  salon, 
all  adorned  with  ancient  tapestry, — the  old  Marquise,  the 
friend  of  the  old  priest?  It  was  she  who  had  restored 
the  church ; it  was  she  who  had  established  and  fur- 
nished a complete  dispensary  at  the  vicarage  under  the 
care  of  Pauline,  the  Cure’s  servant;  it  was  she  who, 

twice  a week  in  her  great  barouche,  all  crowded  with 

little  children’s  clothes  and  thick  woollen  petticoats,  came 
to  fetch  the  Abbe  Constantin  to  make  with  him  what  she 
called  “ la  chasse  aux  pauvres.” 

The  old  priest  continued  his  walk,  musing  over  all  this ; 
then  he  thought  too  — the  greatest  saints  have  their  little 
weaknesses  — he  thought  too  of  the  beloved  habits  of  thirty 
years  thus  rudely  interrupted.  Every  Thursday  and  every 
Sunday  he  had  dined  at  the  castle.  How  he  had  been 
petted,  coaxed,  indulged!  Little  Camille  — she  was  eight 
years  old  — would  come  and  sit  on  his  knee  and  say  to 
him,  — 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


I 2 


“ You  know,  Monsieur  le  Cure,  it  is  in  your  church  that 
I mean  to  be  married,  and  grandmamma  will  send  such 
heaps  of  flowers  to  fill,  quite  fill  the  church,  — more  than 
for  the  month  of  Mary.  It  will  be  like  a large  garden,  — 
all  white,  all  white,  all  white  ! ” 

The  month  of  Mary;  it  was  then  the  month  of  Mary. 
Formerly  at  this  season  the  altar  disappeared  under  the 
flowers  brought  from  the  conservatories  of  Longueval. 
None  this  year  were  on  the  altar,  except  a few  bouquets 
of  lily-of-the-valley  and  white  lilac  in  gilded  china  vases. 
Formerly,  every  Sunday  at  high  mass,  and  every  evening 
during  the  month  of  Mary,  Mademoiselle  Hebert,  the 
reader  to  Madame  de  Longueval,  played  the  little  harmo- 
nium given  by  the  Marquise.  Now  the  poor  harmonium, 
reduced  to  silence,  no  longer  accompanied  the  voices  of 
the  choir  or  the  children’s  hymns.  Mademoiselle  Marbeau, 
the  postmistress,  would  with  all  her  heart  have  taken  the 
place  of  Mademoiselle  Hebert,  but  she  dared  not,  though 
she  was  a little  musical.  She  was  afraid  of  being  remarked 
as  of  the  clerical  party  and  denounced  by  the  Mayor,  who 
was  a Freethinker.  That  might  have  been  injurious  to  her 
interests  and  prevented  her  promotion. 

He  had  nearly  reached  the  end  of  the  wall  of  the  park, 
that  park  of  which  every  corner  was  known  to  the  old 
priest.  The  road  now  followed  the  banks  of  the  Lizotte, 
and  on  the  other  side  of  the  little  stream  stretched  the  fields 
belonging  to  the  two  farms ; then,  still  farther  off,  rose  the 
dark  woods  of  La  Mionne. 

Divided ! The  domain  was  going  to  be  divided ! The 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


13 


heart  of  the  poor  priest  was  rent  by  this  bitter  thought. 
All  that  for  thirty  years  had  been  inseparable,  indivisible, 
to  him ; it  was  a little  his  own,  his  very  own,  his  estate, 
this  great  property.  He  felt  at  home  on  the  lands  of 
Longueval.  It  had  happened  more  than  once  that  he  had 
stopped  complacently  before  an  immense  cornfield,  plucked 
an  ear,  removed  the  husk,  and  said  to  himself,  — 

“ Come  ! the  grain  is  fine,  firm,  and  sound.  This  year 
we  shall  have  a good  harvest ! ” 

And  with  a joyous  heart  he  would  continue  his  way 
through  his  fields,  his  meadows,  his  pastures,  — in  short,  by 
every  chord  of  his  heart,  by  every  tie  of  his  life,  by  all  his 
habits,  his  memories,  he  clung  to  this  domain  whose  last 
hour  had  come. 

The  Abbe  perceived  in  the  distance  the  farm  of  Blanche- 
Couronne;  its  red-tiled  roofs  showed  distinctly  against  the 
verdure  of  the  forest.  There,  again,  the  Cure  was  at  home. 
Bernard,  the  farmer  of  the  Marquise,  was  his  friend;  and 
when  the  old  priest  was  delayed  in  his  visits  to  the  poor 
and  sick,  when  the  sun  was  sinking  below  the  horizon,  and 
the  Abbe  began  to  feel  a little  fatigue  in  his  limbs  and  a 
sensation  of  exhaustion  in  his  stomach,  he  stopped  and 
supped  with  Bernard,  regaled  himself  with  a savory  stew 
and  potatoes,  and  emptied  his  pitcher  of  cider.  Then,  after 
supper,  the  farmer  harnessed  his  old  black  mare  to  his  cart 
and  took  the  Vicar  back  to  Longueval.  The  whole  dis- 
tance they  chatted  and  quarrelled.  The  Abbe  reproached 
the  farmer  with  not  going  to  mass,  and  the  latter  replied,  — 

“ The  wife  and  the  girls  go  for  me.  You  know  very 


*4 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


well,  Monsieur  le  Cure,  that  is  how  it  is  with  us.  The 
women  have  enough  religion  for  the  men.  They  will  open 
the  gates  of  Paradise  for  us.” 

And  he  added  mahciously,  while  giving  a touch  of  the 
whip  to  his  old  black  mare,  — 

“ If  there  is  one  ! ” 

The  Cure  sprang  from  his  seat. 

“What!  if  there  is  one?  Of  a certainty  there  is  one.” 
“Then  you  will  be  there,  Monsieur  le  Cure.  You  say 
that  is  not  certain,  and  I say  it  is.  You  will  be  there;  you 
will  be  there  at  the  gate,  on  the  watch  for  your  parish- 
ioners, and  still  busy  with  their  little  affairs ; and  you  will 
say  to  Saint  Peter,  — for  it  is  Saint  Peter,  is  n’t  it,  who 
keeps  the  keys  of  Paradise?” 

“ Yes,  it  is  Saint  Peter.” 

“Well,  you  will  say  to  him,  to  Saint  Peter,  if  he  wants 
to  shut  the  door  in  my  face  under  the  pretence  that  I did 
not  go  to  mass,  — you  will  say  to  him,  ‘ Bah  ! let  him  in,  all 
the  same.  It  is  Bernard,  one  of  the  farmers  of  Madame 
la  Marquise,  an  honest  man.  He  was  Common  Council- 
man, and  he  voted  for  the  maintenance  of  the  sisters  when 
they  were  going  to  be  expelled  from  the  village  school.* 
That  will  touch  Saint  Peter,  who  will  answer,  ‘Well,  well, 
you  may  pass,  Bernard,  but  it  is  only  to  please  Monsieur 
le  Cure.’  For  you  will  be  Monsieur  le  Cure  up  there,  and 
Cure  de  Longueval  too,  for  Paradise  itself  would  be  dull 
for  you  if  you  must  give  up  being  Cure  de  Longueval.” 
Cure  de  Longueval ! Yes,  all  his  life  he  had  been  nothing 
but  Cure  de  Longueval,  had  never  dreamed  of  anything 


ttWABIf 

Of  THE 

w$&*gv  or  uti* 


The  Abbe  Constantin. 


17 


else,  had  never  wished  to  be  anything  else.  Three  or  four 
times  excellent  livings,  with  one  or  two  curates,  had  been 
offered  to  him;  but  he  had  always  refused  them.  He  loved 
his  little  church,  his  little  village,  his  little  vicarage.  There 
he  had  it  all  to  himself,  saw  to  everything  himself,  calm, 
tranquil,  he  went  and  came,  summer  and  winter,  in  sunshine 
or  storm,  in  wind  or  rain.  His  frame  became  hardened  by 
fatigue  and  exposure;  but  his  soul  remained  gentle,  tender, 
and  pure. 

He  lived  in  hjs  vicarage,  which. was  *<only  a larger  labor- 
er’s cottage  separated  from  the  church. -by  the  churchyard. 
When  the  Cure  mounted  the  ladder  to  train  bis  pear  and 
peach  trees,  over  the  top  of  the  wall  he  perceived  the 
graves  over  which  he  had  said  the  last  prayer,  and  cast 
the  first  spadeful  of  earth.  Then,  while  continuing  his 
work,  he  said  in  his  heart  a little  prayer  for  the  repose  of 
those  among  his  dead  whose  fate  disturbed  him,  and  who 
might  be  still  detained  in  purgatory.  He  had  a tranquil 
and  childlike  faith. 

But  among  these  graves  there  was  one  which  oftener 
than  all  the  others  received  his  visits  and  his  prayers.  It 
was  the  tomb  of  his  old  friend  Dr.  Reynaud,  who  had  died 
in  his  arms  in  1871,  and  under  what  circumstances!  The 
doctor  had  been  like  Bernard,  — he  never  went  to  mass  or  to 
confession ; but  he  was  so  good,  so  charitable,  so  compas- 
sionate to  the  suffering.  This  was  the  cause  of  the  Cure’s 
great  anxiety,  of  his  great  solicitude.  His  friend  Reynaud, 
where  was  he?  Where  was  he?  Then  he  called  to  mind 
the  noble  life  of  the  country  doctor,  all  made  up  of  courage 


i8 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


and  self-denial ; he  recalled  his  death,  — above  all,  his 
death,  — and  said  to  himself,  — 

“ In  Paradise;  he  can  be  nowhere  but  in  Paradise.  The 
good  God  may  have  sent  him  to  purgatory  just  for  form’s 
sake ; but  He  must  have  delivered  him  after  five  minutes.” 
All  this  passed  through  the  mind  of  the  old  man  as  he 
continued  his  walk  towards  Souvigny.  He  was  going  to 
the  town,  to  the  solicitor  of  the  Marquise,  to  inquire  the 
result  of  the  sale,  to  learn  who  were  to  be  the  new  masters 
of  the  castle  of  Longueval.  The  Abbe  had  still  about  a 
mile  to  walk  before  reaching  the  first  houses  of  Souvigny, 
and  was  passing  the  park  of  Lavardens,  when  he  heard 
above  his  head  voices  calling  to  him, — 

“ Monsieur  le  Cure,  Monsieur  le  Cure  ! ” 

At  this  spot  adjoining  the  wall,  a long  alley  of  lime-trees 
bordered  the  terrace ; and  the  Abbe,  raising  his  head,  per- 
ceived Madame  de  Lavardens  and  her  son  Paul. 

“ Where  are  you  going,  Monsieur  le  Cure?”  asked  the 
Comtesse. 

“To  Souvigny,  to  the  Tribunal,  to  learn  — ” 

“Stay  here;  M.  de  Larnac  is  coming  after  the  sale,  to 
tell  me  the  result.” 

The  Abbe  Constantin  joined  them  on  the  terrace. 
Gertrude  de  Lannilis,  Comtesse  de  Lavardens,  had  been 
very  unfortunate.  At  eighteen  she  had  been  guilty  of 
a folly,  the  only  one  of  her  life,  but  that  one  irreparable. 
She  had  married  for  love,  in  a burst  of  enthusiasm  and 
exaltation,  M.  de  Lavardens,  one  of  the  most  fascinating 
and  brilliant  men  of  his  time.  He  did  not  love  her,  and 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


19 


only  married  her  from  necessity;  he  had  devoured  his 
patrimonial  fortune  to  the  very  last  farthing,  and  for  two 
or  three  years  had  supported  himself  by  various  expedients. 
Mademoiselle  de  Lannilis  knew  all  that,  and  had  no  illusions 
on  these  points  ; but  she  said  to  herself,  — 

“ I will  love  him  so  much  that  he  will  end  by  loving 
me.” 

Hence  all  her  misfortunes.  Her  existence  might  have 
been  tolerable  if  she  had  not  loved  her  husband  so  much, 
but  she  loved  him  too  much.  She  had  only  succeeded 
in  wearying  him  by  her  importunities  and  tenderness. 
He  returned  to  his  former  life,  which  had  been  most 
irregular.  Fifteen  years  had  passed  thus  in  a long  martyr- 
dom, supported  by  Madame  de  Lavardens  with  all  the 
appearance  of  passive  resignation.  Nothing  ever  could 
distract  her  from,  or  cure  her  of  the  love  which  was 
destroying  her. 

M.  de  Lavardens  died  in  1869;  he  left  a son  fourteen 
years  of  age,  in  whom  were  already  visible  all  the  defects 
and  all  the  good  qualities  of  his  father.  Without  being 
seriously  affected,  the  fortune  of  Madame  de  Lavardens 
was  slightly  compromised,  slightly  diminished.  Madame 
de  Lavardens  sold  her  mansion  in  Paris,  retired  to  the 
country,  where  she  lived  with  strict  economy,  and  devoted 
herself  to  the  education  of  her  son. 

But  here  again  grief  and  disappointment  awaited  her. 
Paul  de  Lavardens  was  intelligent,  amiable,  and  affection- 
ate, but  thoroughly  rebellious  against  any  constraint  and 
any  species  of  work.  He  drove  to  despair  three  of  four 


20 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


tutors  who  vainly  endeavored  to  force  something  serious 
into  his  head,  went  up  to  the  military  College  of  Saint-Cyr, 
failed  at  the  examination,  and  began  to  devour  in  Paris, 
with  all  the  haste  and  folly  possible,  two  or  three  hundred 
thousand  francs. 

That  done,  he  enlisted  in  the  first  regiment  of  the 
Chasseurs  d’Afrique,  had  in  the  very  beginning  of  his 
military  career  the  good  fortune  to  make  one  of  an  ex- 
peditionary column  sent  into  the  Sahara,  distinguished 
himself,  soon  became  quarter-master,  and  at  the  end  of 
three  years  was  about  to  be  appointed  sub-lieutenant 
when  he  was  captivated  by  a young  person  who  played  the 
“ Fille  de  Madame  Angot,”  at  the  theatre  in  Algiers. 

Paul  had  finished  his  time;  he  quitted  the  service,  and 
went  to  Paris  with  his  charmer.  Then  it  was  a dancer; 
then  it  was  an  actress ; then  a circus-rider.  He  tried 

life  in  every  form.  He  led  the  brilliant  and  miserable 

existence  of  the  unoccupied. 

But  it  was  only  three  or  four  months  that  he  passed 

in  Paris  each  year.  His  mother  made  him  an  allowance 

of  thirty  thousand  francs,  and  had  declared  to  him  that 
never  while  she  lived  should  he  have  another  penny 
before  his  marriage.  He  knew  his  mother;  he  knew  he 
must  consider  her  words  as  serious.  Thus,  wishing  to 
make  a good  figure  in  Paris  and  lead  a merry  life,  he 
spent  his  thirty  thousand  francs  in  three  months,  and  then 
docilely  returned  to  Lavardens,  where  he  was  “ out  at 
grass.”  He  spent  his  time  hunting,  fishing,  and  riding 
with  the  officers  of  the  artillery  regiment  quartered  at 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


2 1 


Souvigny.  The  little  provincial  milliners  and  “ grisettes  ” 
replaced,  without  rendering  him  oblivious  of,  the  little 
singers  and  actresses  of  Paris.  By  searching  for  them, 
one  may  still  find  grisettes  in  country  towns,  and  Paul  de 
Lavardens  sought  assiduously. 

As  soon  as  the  Cure  had  reached  Madame  de  Lavardens, 
she  said,  — 

“ Without  waiting  for  M.  de  Larnac,  I can  tell  you  the 
names  of  the  purchasers  of  the  domain  of  Longueval. 
I am  quite  easy  on  the  subject,  and  have  no  doubt  of  the 
success  of  our  plan.  In  order  to  avoid  any  foolish 
disputes,  we  have  agreed  among  ourselves ; that  is,  between 
our  neighbor  M.  de  Larnac,  M.  Gallard,  a great  Parisian 
banker,  and  myself.  M.  de  Larnac  will  have  La  Mionne, 
M.  Gallard  the  castle  and  Blanche- Couronne,  and  I — 
La  Rozeraie.  I know  you,  Monsieur  le  Cure;  you  will 
be  anxious  about  your  poor,  but  comfort  yourself.  These 
Gallards  are  rich  and  will  give  you  plenty  of  money.” 

At  this  moment  a cloud  of  dust  appeared  on  the  road ; 
from  it  emerged  a carriage. 

“ Here  comes  M.  de  Larnac  ! ” cried  Paul;  “ I know  his 
ponies  ! ” 

All  three  hurriedly  descended  from  the  terrace,  and 
returned  to  the  castle.  They  arrived  there  just  as  M.  de 
Larnac’s  carriage  drove  up  to  the  entrance. 

“Well?”  asked  Madame  de  Lavardens. 

“Well!”  replied  M.  de  Larnac,  “we  have  nothing.” 

“What?  Nothing?”  cried  Madame  de  Lavardens,  very 
pale  and  agitated. 


22 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


“Nothing,  nothing;  absolutely  nothing,  — the  one  or  the 
other  of  us.” 

And  M.  de  Larnac,  springing  from  his  carriage,  related 
what  had  taken  place  at  the  sale  before  the  Tribunal  of 
Souvigny. 

“At  first,”  he  said,  “ everything  went  upon  wheels.  The 
castle  went  to  M.  Gallard  for  six  hundred  and  fifty  thou- 
sand francs.  No  competitor;  a rise  of  fifty  francs  had 
been  sufficient.  On  the  other  hand,  there  was  a little 
battle  for  Blanche-Couronne.  The  bids  rose  from  five 
hundred  thousand  francs  to  five  hundred  and  twenty  thou- 
sand francs,  and  again  M.  Gallard  was  victorious.  Another 
and  more  animated  battle  for  La  Rozeraie ; at  last  it  was 
knocked  down  to  you,  Madame,  for  four  hundred  and 
fifty-five  thousand  francs.  I got  the  forest  of  La  Mionne 
without  opposition  at  a rise  of  one  hundred  francs.  All 
seemed  over,  those  present  had  risen,  our  solicitors  were  sur- 
rounded with  persons  asking  the  names  of  the  purchasers. 

“ M.  Brazier,  the  judge  intrusted  with  the  sale,  desired 
silence;  and  the  bailiff  of  the  court  offered  the  four  lots 
together  for  two  millions  one  hundred  and  fifty  or  sixty 
thousand  francs,  I don’t  remember  which.  A murmur 
passed  through  the  assembly.  ‘ No  one  will  bid,’  was 
heard  on  all  sides.  But  little  Gibert,  the  solicitor,  who 
was  seated  in  the  first  row  and  till  then  had  given  no 
sign  of  life,  rose  and  said  calmly,  ‘ I have  a purchaser  for 
the  four  lots  together  at  two  millions  two  hundred  thou- 
sand francs.’  This  was  like  a thunderbolt.  A tremendous 
clamor  arose,  followed  by  a dead  silence.  The  hall  was 


• . 


-V. 


f§4 


ftis#.. 


uetv  * 

^Jf^*"** 


The  Abbe  Constantin. 


25 


filled  with  farmers  and  laborers  from  the  neighborhood. 
Two  million  francs ! So  much  money  for  the  land  threw 
them  into  a sort  of  respectful  stupor.  However,  M.  Gal- 
lard,  bending  towards  Sandrier,  the  solicitor  who  had  bid 
for  him,  whispered  something  in  his  ear.  The  struggle 
beean  between  Gibert  and  Sandrier.  The  bids  rose  to 
two  millions  five  hundred  thousand  francs.  M.  Gallard 
hesitated  for  a moment  — decided  — continued  up  to  three 
millions.  Then  he  stopped  and  the  whole  went  to  Gibert. 
Every  one  rushed  on  him ; they  surrounded,  they  crushed 

‘ -riff 

him.  ‘The  name,  the  name,  of  the  purchaser?  ’ ‘It  is  an 
American,’  replied  Gibert,  ‘ Mrs.  Scott.’  ” 

“ Mrs.  Scott ! ” cried  Paul  de  Lavardens. 

“You  know  her?”  asked  Madame  de  Lavardens. 

“Do  I know  her?  Do  I?  Not  at  all.  But  I was  at 
a ball  at  her  house  six  weeks  ago.” 

“At  a ball  at  her  house!  and  you  don’t  know  her? 
What  sort  of  a woman  is  she,  then?” 

“ Charming,  delightful,  ideal,  a miracle  ! ” 

“ And  is  there  a Mr.  Scott?  ” 

“Certainly,  a tall,  fair  man.  He  was  at  his  ball;  they 
pointed  him  out  to  me.  He  bowed  at  random  right  and 
left.  He  was  not  much  amused,  I will  answer  for  it.  He 
looked  at  us  as  if  he  were  thinking,  ‘ Who  are  all  these 
people?  What  are  they  doing  at  my  house?’  We  went 
to  see  Mrs.  Scott  and  Miss  Percival,  her  sister;  and  cer- 
tainly it  was  well  worth  the  trouble.” 

“ These  Scotts,”  said  Madame  de  Lavardens,  addressing 
M.  de  Larnac,  “do  you  know  who  they  are?” 


26 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


“ Yes,  Madame,  I know.  Mr.  Scott  is  an  American 
possessing  a colossal  fortune,  who  settled  himself  in  Paris 
last  year.  As  soon  as  their  name  was  mentioned,  I under- 
stood that  the  victory  had  never  been  doubtful.  Gallard 
was  beaten  beforehand.  The  Scotts  began  by  buying  a 
house  in  Paris  for  two  million  francs;  it  is  near  the  Parc 
Monceau.” 

“ Yes,  Rue  Murillo,”  said  Paul,  “ I tell  you  I went  to 
a ball  there.  It  was  — ” 

“ Let  M.  de  Larnac  speak.  You  can  tell  us  presently 
about  the  ball  at  Mrs.  Scott’s.” 

“Well,  now,  imagine  my  Americans  established  in  Paris,” 
continued  M.  de  Larnac,  “ and  the  showers  of  gold  begun. 
In  the  orthodox  parvenu  style  they  amuse  themselves  with 
throwing  handfuls  of  gold  out  of  window.  Their  great 
wealth  is  quite  recent,  they  say;  ten  years  ago  Mrs.  Scott 
begged  in  the  streets  of  New  York.” 

“ Begged ! ” 

“ They  say  so.  Then  she  married  this  Scott,  the  son 
of  a New  York  banker,  and  all  at  once  a successful  lawsuit 
put  into  their  hands  not  millions,  but  tens  of  millions. 
Somewhere  in  America  they  have  a silver  mine,  but  a 
genuine  mine,  a real  mine,  — a mine  with  silver  in  it.  Ah  ! 
we  shall  see  what  luxury  will  reign  at  Longueval ! We 
shall  all  look  like  paupers  beside  them ! It  is  said  that 
they  have  one  hundred  thousand  francs  a day  to  spend.” 

“ Such  are  our  neighbors  ! ” cried  Madame  de  Lavardens. 
“An  adventuress!  and  that  is  the  least  of  it;  a heretic, 
Monsieur  1’ Abbe,  a Protestant ! ” 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


27 


A heretic  ! a Protestant ! Poor  Cure ; it  was  indeed  that 
of  which  he  had  immediately  thought  on  hearing  the  words, 
“ An  American,  Mrs.  Scott.”  The  new  chatelaine  of  Lon- 
gueval  would  not  go  to  mass.  What  did  it  matter  to  him 
that  she  had  been  a beggar?  What  did  it  matter  to  him 
if  she  possessed  tens  and  tens  of  millions?  She  was  not 
a Catholic.  He  would  never  again  baptize  children  born 
at  Longueval ; and  the  chapel  in  the  castle,  where  he  had 
so  often  said  mass,  would  be  transformed  into  a Protestant 
oratory,  which  would  echo  only  the  frigid  utterances  of 
a Calvinistic  or  Lutheran  pastor. 

Every  one  was  distressed,  disappointed,  overwhelmed, 
but  in  the  midst  of  the  general  depression  Paul  stood 
radiant. 

“ A charming  heretic  at  all  events,”  said  he,  “ or  rather, 
two  charming  heretics.  You  should  see  the  two  sisters  on 
horseback  in  the  Bois,  with  two  little  grooms  behind  them 
not  higher  than  that.” 

“ Come,  Paul,  tell  us  all  you  know.  Describe  the  ball 
of  which  you  speak.  How  did  you  happen  to  go  to  a 
ball  at  these  Americans’?” 

“ By  the  greatest  chance.  My  Aunt  Valentine  was  at 
home  that  night;  I looked  in  about  ten  o’clock.  Well, 
Aunt  Valentine’s  Wednesdays  are  not  exactly  scenes  of 
wild  enjoyment,  give  you  my  word ! I had  been  there 
about  twenty  minutes  when  I caught  sight  of  Roger  de 
Puymartin  escaping  furtively.  I caught  him  in  the  hall, 
and  said,  — 

“‘We  will  go  home  together,’ 


28 


The  Abbe  Constantin. 


“ ‘ Oh  ! I am  not  going  home.’ 

“ ‘ Where  are  you  going?  5 
“ ‘ To  the  ball.’ 

“ ‘ Where?  ’ 

‘“At  Mrs.  Scott’s.  Will  you  come?’ 

“ ‘ But  I have  not  been  invited.’ 

“ ‘ Neither  have  I.’ 

‘“What!  not  invited?’ 

“ ‘ No.  I am  going  with  one  of  my  friends.’ 

“‘And  does  your  friend  know  them?’ 

“ ‘ Scarcely;  but  enough  to  introduce  us.  Come  along; 
you  will  see  Mrs.  Scott.’ 

“ ‘ Oh  ! I have  seen  her,  on  horseback  in  the  Bois.’ 

“ ‘ But  she  does  not  wear  a low  gown  on  horseback;  you 
have  not  seen  her  shoulders,  and  they  are  shoulders  which 
ought  to  be  seen.  There  is  nothing  better  in  Paris  at  this 
moment.’ 

“ And  I went  to  the  ball,  and  I saw  Mrs.  Scott’s  red 
hair,  and  I saw  Mrs.  Scott’s  white  shoulders,  and  I hope 
to  see  them  again  when  there  are  balls  at  Longueval.” 

“ Paul ! ” said  Madame  de  Lavardens,  pointing  to  the 
Abbe. 

“ Oh,  Monsieur  l’Abbe ! I beg  a thousand  pardons. 
Have  I said  anything?  It  seems  to  me  — ” 

The  poor  old  priest  had  heard  nothing;  his  thoughts 
were  elsewhere.  Already  he  saw,  in  the  village  streets, 
the  Protestant  pastor  from  the  castle  stopping  before 
each  house,  and  slipping  under  the  doors  little  Evangeli- 
cal pamphlets. 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


29 


Continuing  his  account,  Paul  launched  into  an  enthusi- 
astic description  of  the  mansion,  which  was  a marvel  — 

“ Of  bad  taste  and  ostentation,”  interrupted  Madame  de 
Lavardens. 

“ Not  at  all,  mother,  not  at  all;  nothing  startling,  nothing 
loud.  It  is  admirably  furnished,  everything  done  with 
elegance  and  originality.  An  incomparable  conservatory, 
flooded  with  electric  light;  the  buffet  was  placed  in  the 
conservatory  under  a vine  laden  with  grapes,  which  one 
could  gather  by  handfuls,  and  in  the  month  of  April ! 
The  accessories  of  the  cotillon  cost,  it  appears,  more  than 
forty  thousand  francs.  Ornaments,  bonbonnieres , delicious 
trifles,  and  we  were  begged  to  accept  them.  For  my  part 
I took  nothing,  but  there  were  many  who  made  no  scruple. 
That  evening  Puymartin  told  me  Mrs.  Scott’s  history;  but 
it  was  not  at  all  like  M.  de  Larnac’s  story.  Roger  said 
that  when  quite  little,  Mrs.  Scott  had  been  stolen  from 
her  family  by  some  acrobats,  and  that  her  father  had 
found  her  in  a travelling -circus,  riding  on  barebacked 
horses  and  jumping  through  paper  hoops.” 

“A  circus-rider!”  cried  Madame  de  Lavardens;  “I 
should  have  preferred  the  beggar.” 

“ And  while  Roger  was  telling  me  this  ‘ Family  Herald  ’ 
romance,  I saw  approaching  from  the  end  of  a gallery  a 
wonderful  cloud  of  lace  and  satin;  it  surrounded  this  rider 
from  a wandering  circus,  and  I admired  those  shoulders^ 
those  dazzling  shoulders,  on  which  undulated  a necklace 
of  diamonds  as  big  as  the  stopper  of  a decanter.  They 
say  that  the  Minister  of  Finance  had  sold  secretly  to  Mrs. 
Scott  half  the  crown  diamonds,  and  that  that  was  how, 


3° 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


the  month  before,  he  had  been  able  to  show  a surplus  of 
fifteen  hundred  thousand  francs  in  the  budget.  Add  to 
all  this  that  the  lady  had  a remarkably  good  air,  and  that 
the  little  acrobat  seemed  perfectly  at  home  in  the  midst 
of  all  this  splendor.” 

Paul  was  going  so  far  that  his  mother  was  obliged  to 
stop  him.  Before  M.  de  Larnac,  who  was  excessively 
annoyed  and  disappointed,  he  showed  too  plainly  his  de- 
light at  the  prospect  of  having  this  marvellous  American 
for  a near  neighbor. 

The  Abbe  Constantin  was  preparing  to  return  to  Lon- 
gueval,  but  Paul,  seeing  him  ready  to  start,  said,  — 

“ No,  no ! Monsieur  le  Cure,  you  must  not  think  of 
walking  back  to  Longueval  in  the  heat  of  the  day.  Allow 
me  to  drive  you  home.  I am  really  grieved  to  see  you 
so  cast  down,  and  will  try  my  best  to  amuse  you.  Oh, 
if  you  were  ten  times  a saint  I would  make  you  laugh  at 
my  stories.” 

And  half  an  hour  after,  the  two  — the  Cure  and  Paul  — 
drove  side  by  side  in  the  direction  of  the  village.  Paul 
talked,  talked,  talked.  His  mother  was  not  there  to 
check  or  moderate  his  transports,  and  his  joy  was  over- 
flowing. 

“ Now,  look  here,  Monsieur  l’Abbe,  you  are  wrong  to 
take  things  in  this  tragic  manner.  Stay,  look  at  my  little 
mare,  how  well  she  trots ! what  good  action  she  has ! 
You  have  not  seen  her  before?  What  do  you  think  I 
paid  for  her?  Four  hundred  francs.  I discovered  her  a 
fortnight  ago,  between  the  shafts  of  a market  gardener’s 
cart.  She  is  a treasure.  I assure  you  she  can  do  sixteen 


The  A bbe  Constantin . 


3* 


miles  an  hour,  and  keep  one’s  hands  full  all  the  time. 
Just  see  how  she  pulls!  Come,  tot , tot , tot!  You  are 
not  in  a hurry,  Monsieur  l’Abbe,  I hope.  Let  us  return 
through  the  wood ; the  fresh  air  will  do  you  good.  Oh, 
Monsieur  l’Abbe,  if  you  only  knew  what  a regard  I 
have  for  you,  and  respect  too.  I did  not  talk  too  much 
nonsense  before  you  just  now,  did  I ? I should  be  so 
sorry — ” 

“ No,  my  child,  I heard  nothing.” 

“ Well,  we  will  take  the  longest  way  round.” 

After  having  turned  to  the  left  in  the  wood,  Paul  resumed 
his  communications. 

“ I was  saying,  Monsieur  l’Abbe,”  he  went  on,  “ that 
you  are  wrong  to  take  things  so  seriously.  Shall  I tell 
you  what  I think?  This  is  a very  fortunate  affair.” 

“ Very  fortunate?  ” 

“Yes,  very  fortunate.  I would  rather  see  the  Scotts 
at  Longueval  than  the  Gallards.  Did  you  not  hear  M. 
de  Larnac  reproach  these  Americans  with  spending 
their  money  foolishly?  It  is  never  foolish  to  spend 
money.  The  folly  lies  in  keeping  it.  Your  poor  — for 
I am  perfectly  sure  that  it  is  your  poor  of  whom  you 

are  thinking  — your  poor  have  made  a good  thing  of  it 

to-day.  That  is  my  opinion.  The  religion?  Well,  they 

will  not  go  to  mass,  and  that  will  be  a grief  to  you,  — 

that  is  only  natural;  but  they  will  send  you  money,  plenty 
of  money,  and  you  will  take  it,  and  you  will  be  quite 
right  in  doing  so.  You  will  see  that  you  will  not  say 
no.  There  will  be  gold  raining  over  the  whole  place ; a 
movement,  a bustle,  carriages  with  four  horses,  postil- 


3^ 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


ions,  powdered  footmen,  paper  chases,  hunting  parties, 
balls,  fireworks,  and  here  in  this  very  spot  I shall  per- 
haps find  Paris  again  before  long.  I shall  see  once  more 
the  two  riders  and  the  two  little  grooms  of  whom  I was 
, speaking  just  now.  If  you  only  knew  how  well  those 
two  sisters  look  on  horseback ! One  morning  I went 
right  round  the  Bois  de  Boulogne  behind  them ; I fancy 
I can  see  them  still.  They  had  high  hats,  and  little 
black  veils  drawn  very  tightly  over  their  faces,  and  long 
riding-habits  made  in  the  princess  form,  with  a single 
seam  right  down  the  back;  and  a woman  must  be  awfully 
well  made  to  wear  a riding-habit  like  that,  because  you 
see,  Monsieur  l’Abbe,  with  a habit  of  that  cut  there  is 
no  deception  possible.” 

For  some  moments  the  Cure  had  not  been  listening 
to  Paul’s  discourse.  They  had  entered  a long,  perfectly 
straight  avenue,  and  at  the  end  of  this  avenue  the  Cure 
saw  a horseman  galloping  along. 

“Look!”  said  the  Cure  to  Paul,  “your  eyes  are  better 
than  mine.  Is  not  that  Jean?” 

“Yes,  it  is  Jean.  I know  his  gray  mare.” 

Paul  loved  horses,  and  before  looking  at  the  rider 
looked  at  the  horse.  It  was  indeed  Jean,  who,  when  he 
saw  in  the  distance  the  Cure  and  Paul  de  Lavardens, 
waved  in  the  air  his  kepi , adorned  with  two  golden 
stripes.  Jean  was  lieutenant  in  the  regiment  of  artillery 
quartered  at  Souvigny. 

Some  moments  after,  he  stopped  by  the  little  carriage, 
and  addressing  the  Cure,  said,  — 

“I  have  just  been  to  your  house,  mon  parrain . Paul- 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


33 


ine  told  me  that  you  had  gone  to  Souvigny  about  the 
sale.  Well,  who  has  bought  the  castle?” 

"An  American,  — Mrs.  Scott.” 

"And  Blanche-Couronne?  ” 

" The  same,  Mrs.  Scott.” 

"And  La  Rozeraie?” 

" Mrs.  Scott  again.” 

"And  the  forest?  Mrs.  Scott  again?” 

"You  have  said  it,”  replied  Paul;  "and  I know  Mrs. 
Scott,  and  I can  promise  you  that  there  will  be  some- 
thing going  on  at  Longueval.  I will  introduce  you. 
Only  it  is  distressing  to  Monsieur  l’Abbe  because  she 
is  an  American,  — a Protestant.” 

" Ah  ! that  is  true,”  said  Jean,  sympathizingly.  " How- 
ever, we  will  talk  about  it  to-morrow.  I am  going  to 
dine  with  you,  godfather.  I have  warned  Pauline  of  my 
visit;  no  time  to  stop  to-day.  I am  on  duty,  and  must 
be  in  quarters  at  three  o’clock.” 

"Stables?”  asked  Paul. 

"Yes.  Good-by,  Paul.  To-morrow,  godfather.” 

The  lieutenant  galloped  away.  Paul  de  Lavardens  gave 
his  little  horse  her  head. 

"What  a capital  fellow  Jean  is!  ” said  Paul. 

" Oh,  yes,  indeed.” 

" There  is  no  one  on  earth  better  than  Jean.” 

" No,  no  one.” 

The  Cure  turned  round  to  take  another  look  at  Jean, 
who  was  almost  lost  in  the  depths  of  the  forest. 

" Oh,  yes,  there  is  you,  Monsieur  le  Cure.” 


3 


34 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


“ No,  not  me  ! not  me  ! ” 

“Well,  Monsieur  l’Abbe,  shall  I tell  you  what  I think? 
I think  there  is  no  one  better  than  you  two,  — you 
and  Jean.  That  is  the  truth,  if  I must  tell  you.  Oh, 
what  a splendid  place  for  a trot!  I shall  let  Niniche 
go;  I call  her  Niniche.” 

With  the  point  of  his  whip  Paul  caressed  the  flank  of 
Niniche,  who  started  off  at  full  speed,  and  Paul,  delighted, 
cried,  — 

“Just  look  at  her  action,  Monsieur  l’Abbe  ! Just  look 
at  her  action!  So  regular, — just  like  clockwork.  Lean 
over  and  look.” 

To  please  Paul  de  Lavardens  the  Abbe  Constantin  did 
lean  over  and  look  at  Niniche’s  action;  but  the  old 
priest’s  thoughts  were  far  away. 


CHAPTER  II. 


npHIS  sub-lieutenant  of  artillery  was  called  Jean  Rey- 
naud.  He  was  the  son  of  a country  doctor  who 
slept  in  the  churchyard  of  Longueval. 

In  1846,  when  the  Abbe  Constantin  took  possession  of 
his  little  living,  the  grandfather  of  Jean  was  residing  in  a 
pleasant  cottage  on  the  road  to  Souvigny,  between  the 
castles  of  Longueval  and  Lavardens. 

Marcel,  the  son  of  that  Dr.  Reynaud,  was  finishing  his 
medical  studies  in  Paris.  He  possessed  great  industry 
and  an  elevation  of  sentiment  and  mind  extremely  rare. 
He  passed  his  examinations  with  great  distinction,  and 
had  decided  to  fix  his  abode  in  Paris  and  tempt  fortune 


36 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


there;  and  everything  seemed  to  promise  him  the  most 
prosperous  and  brilliant  career,  when  in  1852  he  received 
the  news  of  his  father’s  death.  He  had  been  struck  down 
by  a fit  of  apoplexy.  Marcel  hurried  to  Longueval  over- 
whelmed with  grief,  for  he  adored  his  father.  He  spent 
a month  with  his  mother,  and  then  spoke  of  the  neces- 
sity of  returning  to  Paris. 

“That  is  true,”  said  his  mother;  “you  must  go.” 

“What!  I must  go!  We  must  go,  you  mean.  Do 
you  think  that  I would  leave  you  here  alone?  I shall 
take  you  with  me.” 

“To  live  in  Paris;  to  leave  the  place  where  I was 
born,  where  your  father  lived,  where  he  died?  I could 
never  do  it  my  child,  never ! Go  alone ; your  life,  your 
future,  are  there.  I know  you;  I know  that  you  will 
never  forget  me,  that  you  will  come  and  see  me  often, 
very  often.” 

“No,  mother,”  he  answered;  “I  will  stay  here.”  And 
he  stayed. 

His  hopes,  his  ambitions,  all  in  one  moment  vanished. 
He  saw  only  one  thing,  — duty,  the  duty  of  not  aban- 
doning his  aged  mother.  In  duty,  simply  accepted  and 
simply  discharged,  he  found  happiness.  After  all,  it  is 
only  thus  that  one  does  find  happiness. 

Marcel  bowed  with  courage  and  good  grace  to  his 
new  existence.  He  continued  his  father’s  life,  entering 
the  groove  at  the  very  spot  where  he  had  left  it.  He 
devoted  himself  without  regret  to  the  obscure  career  of 
a country  doctor.  His  father  had  left  him  a little  land 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


37 


and  a little  money;  he  lived  in  the  most  simple  manner 
possible,  and  one  half  of  his  life  belonged  to  the  poor, 
from  whom  he  would  never  receive  a penny.  This  was 
his  only  luxury. 

He  found  in  his  way  a young  girl,  charming,  penni- 
less, and  alone  in  the  world.  He  married  her.  This 
was  in  1855,  and  the  following  year  brought  to  Dr.  Rey- 
naud  a great  sorrow  and  a great  joy,  — the  death  of  his 
old  mother  and  the  birth  of  his  son  Jean. 

At  an  interval  of  six  weeks,  the  Abbe  Constantin  re1 
cited  the  prayers  for  the  dead  over  the  grave  of  the 
grandmother,  and  was  present  in  the  position  of  god- 
father at  the  baptism  of  the  grandson. 

In  consequence  of  constantly  meeting  at  the  bedside 
of  the  suffering  and  dying,  the  priest  and  the  doctor 
had  been  strongly  attracted  to  each  other.  They  instinc- 
tively felt  that  they  belonged  to  the  same  family,  the 
same  race,  — the  race  of  the  tender,  the  just,  and  the 
benevolent. 

Year  followed  year, — calm,  peaceful,  fully  occupied  in 
labor  and  duty.  Jean  was  no  longer  an  infant.  His 
father  gave  him  his  first  lessons  in  reading  and  writing, 
the  priest  his  first  lessons  in  Latin.  Jean  was  intelligent 
and  industrious.  He  made  so  much  progress  that  the 
two  professors  — particularly  the  Cure  — found  themselves 
at  the  end  of  a few  years  rather  cast  into  the  shade  by 
their  pupil.  It  was  at  this  moment  that  the  Countess, 
after  the  death  of  her  husband,  came  to  settle  at  Lavar- 
dens.  She  brought  with  her  a tutor  for  her  son  Paul,  a 


38 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


very  nice,  but  very  lazy  little  fellow.  The  two  children 
were  of  the  same  age ; they  had  known  each  other  from 
their  earliest  years. 

Madame  de  Lavardens  had  a great  regard  for  Dr. 
Reynaud,  and  one  day  she  made  him  the  following 
proposal  : — 

“ Send  Jean  to  me  every  morning,”  said  she.  “ I will 
send  him  home  in  the  evening.  Paul’s  tutor  is  a very 
accomplished  man ; he  will  make  the  children  work  to- 
gether. It  will  be  rendering  me  a real  service.  Jean 
will  set  Paul  a good  example.” 

Things  were  thus  arranged,  and  the  little  bourgeois  set 
the  little  nobleman  a most  excellent  example  of  industry 
and  application  ; but  this  excellent  example  was  not 
followed. 

The  war  broke  out.  On  November  14,  at  seven 
o’clock  in  the  morning,  the  ‘‘mobiles”  of  Souvigny  as- 
sembled in  the  great  square  of  the  town ; their  chaplain 
was  the  Abbe  Constantin,  their  surgeon-major  Dr.  Rey- 
naud. The  same  idea  had  come  at  the  same  moment  to 
both;  the  priest  was  sixty-two,  the  doctor  fifty. 

When  they  started,  the  battalion  followed  the  road 
which  led  through  Longueval,  and  which  passed  before 
the  doctor’s  house.  Madame  Reynaud  and  Jean  were 
waiting  by  the  roadside. 

The  child  threw  himself  into  his  father’s  arms. 

“Take  me  too,  papa!  take  me  too!” 

Madame  Reynaud  wept.  The  doctor  held  them  both 
in  a long  embrace;  then  he  continued  his  way. 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


39 


A hundred  steps  farther  the  road  made  a sharp  curve. 
The  doctor  turned,  cast  one  long  look  at  his  wife  and 
child,  — the  last;  he  was  never  to  see  them  again. 

On  January  8,  1871,  the  mobiles  of  Souvigny  attacked 
the  village  of  Villersexel,  occupied  by  the  Prussians,  who 
had  barricaded  themselves.  The  firing  began.  A mobile 
who  marched  in  the  front  rank  received  a ball  in  the 
chest  and  fell.  There  was  a short  moment  of  trouble 
and  hesitation. 

“ Forward!  forward!”  shouted  the  officers. 

The  men  passed  over  the  body  of  their  comrade,  and 
under  a hail  of  bullets  entered  the  town. 

Dr.  Reynaud  and  the  Abbe  Constantin  marched  with 
the  troops.  They  stopped  by  the  wounded  man ; the 
blood  was  rushing  in  floods  from  his  mouth. 

“ There  is  nothing  to  be  done,”  said  the  doctor.  “ He 
is  dying;  he  belongs  to  you.” 

The  priest  knelt  down  by  the  dying  man,  and  the 
doctor  rose  to  go  towards  the  village.  He  had  not 
taken  ten  steps  when  he  stopped,  beat  the  air  with  both 
hands,  and  fell  all  at  once  to  the  ground.  The  priest 
ran  to  him;  he  was  dead,  — killed  on  the  spot  by  a bul- 
let through  the  temples.  That  evening  the  village  was 
ours;  and  the  next  day  they  placed  in  the  cemetery  of 
Villersexel  the  body  of  Dr.  Reynaud. 

Two  months  later  the  Abbe  Constantin  took  back  to 
Longueval  the  coffin  of  his  friend,  and  behind  the  coffin 
when  it  was  carried  from  the  church  walked  an  orphan. 
Jean  had  also  lost  his  mother.  At  the  news  of  her  hus- 


40 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


band’s  death  Madame  Reynaud  had  remained  for  twenty- 
four  hours  petrified,  crushed,  without  a word  or  a tear; 
then  fever  had  seized  her,  then  delirium,  and  after  a 
fortnight,  death. 

Jean  was  alone  in  the  world;  he  was  fourteen  years 
old.  Of  that  family,  where  for  more  than  a century  all 
had  been  good  and  honest,  there  remained  only  a child 
kneeling  beside  a grave ; but  he  too  promised  to  be 
what  his  father  and  his  grandfather  before  him  had  been, 

— good  and  honest  and  true. 

There  are  families  like  that  in  France,  and  many  of  them, 

— more  than  one  ventures  to  say.  Our  poor  country 
is  in  many  respects  cruelly  calumniated  by  certain  novel- 
ists, who  draw  exaggerated  and  distorted  pictures  of  it. 
It  is  true  the  history  of  good  people  is  often  monotonous 
or  painful ; this  story  is  a proof  of  it. 

The  grief  of  Jean  was  the  grief  of  a man.  He  remained 
long  sad  and  long  silent.  The  evening  of  his  father's 
funeral  the  Abbe  Constantin  took  him  home  to  the  vicar- 
age. The  day  had  been  rainy  and  cold.  Jean  was  sitting 
by  the  fireside ; the  priest  was  reading  his  breviary  op- 
posite him.  Old  Pauline  came  and  went,  arranging  her 
affairs. 

An  hour  passed  without  a word,  when  Jean,  raising  his 
head,  said,  — 

“ Godfather,  did  my  father  leave  me  any  money  ?” 

This  question  was  so  extraordinary  that  the  old  priest, 
stupefied,  could  scarcely  believe  that  he  heard  aright. 

“You  ask  if  your  father  — ” 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


41 


“ I asked  if  my  father  left  me  some  money.” 

“Yes;  he  must  have  left  you  some.” 

“A  good  deal,  don’t  you  think?  I have  often  heard 
people  say  that  my  father  was  rich.  Tell  me  about  how 
much  he  has  left  me ! ” 

“But  I don’t  know.  You  ask — ” 

The  poor  old  man  felt  his  heart  rent  in  twain.  Such 
a question  at  such  a moment!  Yet  he  thought  he  knew 
the  boy’s  heart;  and  in  that  heart  there  should  not  be 
room  for  such  thoughts. 

“ Pray,  dear  godfather,  tell  me,”  continued  Jean,  gently. 
“ I will  explain  to  you  afterwards  why  I ask  that.” 

“Well,  they  say  your  father  had  two  or  three  hundred 
thousand  francs.” 

“And  is  that  much?” 

“ Yes,  it  is  a great  deal.” 

“And  it  is  all  mine?” 

“ Yes,  it  is  all  yours.” 

“ Oh,  I am  glad  ! because,  you  know,  the  day  that  my 
father  was  killed  in  the  war,  the  Prussians  killed  at  the 
same  time  the  son  of  a poor  woman  in  Longueval,  — old 
Clemence,  you  know;  and  they  killed  too  the  brother  of 
Rosalie,  with  whom  I used  to  play  when  I was  quite 
little.  Well,  since  I am  rich  and  they  are  poor,  I will  di- 
vide with  Clemence  and  Rosalie  the  money  my  father  has 
left  me.” 

On  hearing  these  words,  the  Cure  rose,  took  Jean  by 
both  hands,  and  drew  him  into  his  arms.  The  white  head 
rested  on  the  fair  one,  Two  large  tears  escaped  from 


42 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


the  eyes  of  the  old  priest,  rolled  slowly  down  his  cheeks, 
and  were  lost  in  the  furrows  of  his  face. 

However,  the  Cure  was  obliged  to  explain  to  Jean  that 
though  he  was  his  father’s  heir,  he  had  not  the  right  of 
disposing  of  his  heritage  as  he  would.  There  would  be 
a family  council,  and  a guardian  would  be  appointed. 

“ You,  no  doubt,  godfather?” 

“ No,  not  I,  my  child;  a priest  has  not  the  right  of 
exercising  the  functions  of  a guardian.  They  will,  I think, 
choose  M.  Lenient,  the  lawyer  in  Souvigny,  who  was  one 
of  your  father’s  best  friends.  You  can  speak  to  him  and 
tell  him  what  you  wish.” 

M.  Lenient  was  eventually  appointed  guardian,  and  Jean 
urged  his  wishes  so  eagerly  and  touchingly  that  the  law- 
yer consented  to  deduct  from  the  income  a sum  of  two 
thousand  four  hundred  francs,  which,  every  year  till  Jean 
came  of  age,  was  divided  between  old  Clemence  and  little 
Rosalie. 

Under  these  circumstances  Madame  de  Lavardens  was 
perfect.  She  went  to  the  Abbe,  and  said, — 

“ Give  Jean  to  me,  give  him  to  me  entirely  till  he  has 
finished  his  studies.  I will  bring  him  back  to  you  every 
year  during  the  holidays.  It  is  not  I who  am  rendering 
you  a service;  it  is  a service  which  I ask  of  you.  I cannot 
imagine  any  greater  good  fortune  for  my  son  than  to  have 
Jean  for  a companion.  I must  resign  myself  to  leaving 
Lavardens  for  a time.  Paul  is  bent  upon  being  a soldier 
and  going  up  to  Saint-Cyr.  It  is  only  in  Paris  that  I can 
obtain  the  necessary  masters.  I will  take  the  two  children 


The  Abbe  Constantin. 


43 


there.  They  will  study  together  under  my  own  eyes  like 
brothers,  and  I will  make  no  difference  between  them ; of 
that  you  may  be  sure.” 

It  was  difficult  to  refuse  such  an  offer.  The  old  Cure 
would  have  dearly  liked  to  keep  Jean  with  him,  and  his 
heart  was  torn  at  the  thought  of  this  separation ; but  what 
was  for  the  child’s  real  interest?  That  was  the  only  ques- 
tion to  be  considered ; the  rest  was  nothing.  They  sum- 
moned Jean. 

“ My  child,”  said  Madame  de  Lavardens  to  him,  “ will 
you  come  and  live  with  Paul  and  me  for  some  years?  I 
will  take  you  both  to  Paris.” 

“ You  are  very  kind,  Madame;  but  I should  have  liked 
so  much  to  stay  here.” 

He  looked  at  the  Cure,  who  turned  away  his  eyes. 

“Why  must  we  go?”  he  continued.  “Why  must  you 
take  Paul  and  me  away?  ” 

“ Because  it  is  only  in  Paris  that  you  can  have  all  the 
advantages  necessary  to  complete  your  studies.  Paul  will 
prepare  for  his  examination  at  Saint-Cyr.  You  know  he 
wants  to  be  a soldier.” 

“ So  do  I,  Madame.  I wish  to  be  one  too.” 

“You  a soldier!”  exclaimed  the  Cure;  “but  you  know 
that  was  not  at  all  your  father’s  idea.  In  my  presence 
he  has  often  spoken  of  your  future,  your  career.  You 
were  to  be  a doctor,  and  like  him,  doctor  at  Longueval, 
and  like  him  devote  yourself  to  the  sick  and  poor.  Jean, 
my  child,  do  you  remember?” 

“I  remember;  I remember,” 


44 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


“ Well,  then,  Jean,  you  must  do  as  your  father  wished.  It 
is  your  duty,  Jean;  it  is  your  duty.  You  must  go  to  Paris. 
You  would  like  to  stay  here,  I understand  that  well,  and  I 
should  like  it  too ; but  it  cannot  be.  You  must  go  to  Paris, 
and  work,  work  hard.  Not  that  I am  anxious  about  that; 
you  are  your  father’s  true  son.  You  will  be  an  honest  and 
a laborious  man.  One  cannot  well  be  the  one  without  the 
other.  And  some  day,  in  your  father’s  house,  in  the  place 
where  he  has  done  so  much  good,  the  poor  people  of  the 
country  round  will  find  another  Dr.  Reynaud,  to  whom 
they  may  look  for  help.  And  I,  — if  by  chance  I am  still 
in  this  world,  — when  that  day  comes  I shall  be  so  happy! 
But  I am  wrong  to  speak  of  myself ; I ought  not,  I do  not 
count.  It  is  of  your  father  that  you  must  think.  I repeat  it, 
Jean,  it  was  his  dearest  wish.  You  cannot  have  forgotten  it.” 

“No,  I have  not  forgotten;  but  if  my  father  sees  me 
and  hears  me,  I am  certain  that  he  understands  and  for- 
gives me,  for  it  is  on  his  account.” 

“On  his  account?” 

“ Yes.  When  I heard  that  he  was  dead,  and  when  I 
heard  how  he  died,  all  at  once,  without  any  need  of  re- 
flection, I said  to  myself  that  I would  be  a soldier;  and  I 
will  be  a soldier!  Godfather,  and  you,  Madame,  I beg 
you  not  to  prevent  me.” 

The  child  burst  into  tears,  — a perfect  flood  of  passion- 
ate tears.  The  Comtesse  and  the  Abbe  soothed  him  with 
gentle  words. 

“ Yes,  yes,  it  is  settled,”  they  said ; “ anything  that  you 
wish,  all  that  you  wish.” 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


45 


Both  had  the  same  thought,  — leave  it  to  time;  Jean  is 
only  a child;  he  will  change  his  mind. 

In  this  both  were  mistaken;  Jean  did  not  change  his 
mind.  In  the  month  of  September,  1876,  Paul  de  Lavar- 
dens  was  rejected  at  Saint-Cyr,  and  Jean  Reynaud  passed 
eleventh  at  the  Ecole  Polytechnique.  The  day  when  the 
list  of  the  candidates  who  had  passed  was  published  he 
wrote  to  the  Abbe  Constantin,  “ I have  passed,  and  passed 
too  well,  for  I want  to  go  into  the  army,  and  not  the  Civil 
Service.  However,  if  I keep  my  place  in  the  school,  that 
will  be  the  business  of  one  of  my  comrades ; he  will  have 
my  chance.” 

It  happened  so  in  the  end.  Jean  Reynaud  did  better 
than  keep  his  place.  The  pass-list  showed  his  name  sev- 
enth ; but  instead  of  entering  L’Ecole  des  Ponts  et  Chaus- 
sees,  he  entered  the  military  college  at  Fontainebleau  in 
1878. 

He  was  then  just  twenty-one;  he  was  of  age,  master  of 
his  fortune,  and  the  first  act  of  the  new  administration 
was  a great,  a very  great  piece  of  extravagance.  He 
bought  for  old  Clemence  and  little  Rosalie  two  shares  in 
government  stock,  yielding  fifteen  hundred  francs  each. 
That  cost  him  seventy  thousand  francs,  almost  the  sum 
that  Paul  de  Lavardens,  in  his  first  year  of  liberty  in 
Paris,  spent  for  Mademoiselle  Eise  Bruyere,  of  the  Palais- 
Royal  Theatre. 

Two  years  later  Jean  passed  first  at  the  examination, 
and  left  Fontainebleau  with  the  right  of  choosing  among 
the  vacant  places.  There  was  one  in  the  regiment  quar- 


46 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


tered  at  Souvigny,  and  Souvigny  was  three  miles  from 
Longueval.  Jean  asked  for  this,  and  obtained  it. 

Thus  Jean  Reynaud,  lieutenant  in  the  ninth  regiment 
of  artillery,  came  in  the  month  of  October,  1880,  to  take 
possession  of  the  house  that  had  been  his  father’s ; thus 
he  found  himself  once  more  in  the  place  where  his  child- 
hood had  passed,  and  where  every  one  had  kept  green  the 
memory  of  the  life  and  death  of  his  father;  thus  the  Abbe 
Constantin  was  not  denied  the  happiness  of  once  again 
having  near  him  the  son  of  his  old  friend,  and,  if  the  truth 
must  be  told,  he  no  longer  wished  that  Jean  had  become 
a doctor. 

When  the  old  Cure  left  his  church  after  saying  mass, 
when  he  saw  coming  along  the  road  a great  cloud  of  dust, 
when  he  felt  the  earth  tremble  under  the  rumbling  cannon, 
he  would  stop,  and  like  a child  amuse  himself  with  seeing 
the  regiment  pass;  but  to  him  the  regiment  was  — Jean. 
It  was  this  robust  and  manly  cavalier,  in  whose  face,  as 
in  an  open  book,  one  read  uprightness,  courage,  and 
goodness. 

The  moment  Jean  perceived  the  Cure  he  would  put  his 
horse  to  a gallop,  and  go  to  have  a little  chat  with  his 
godfather.  The  horse  would  turn  his  head  towards  the 
Cure,  for  he  knew  very  well  there  was  always  a piece  of 
sugar  for  him  in  the  pocket  of  that  old  black  soutane , 
rusty  and  worn,  — the  morning  soutane . The  Abbe  Con- 
stantin had  a beautiful  new  one,  of  which  he  took  great 
care,  to  wear  in  society  — when  he  went  into  society. 

The  trumpets  of  the  regiment  sounded  as  they  passed 


7 he  Abbe  Constantin . 


47 


through  the  village,  and  all  eyes  sought  Jean,  — “ little 
Jean,”  for  to  the  old  people  of  Longueval  he  was  still  lit- 
tle Jean.  Certain  wrinkled,  broken-down,  old  peasants  had 
never  been  able  to  break  themselves  of  the  habit  of  saluting 
him  when  he  passed  with,  “Bonjour,  gamin,  ga  va  bien?” 
He  was  six  feet  high,  this  “ gamin ; ” and  Jean  never 
crossed  the  village  without  perceiving  at  one  window  the 
old  furrowed  parchment  skin  of  Clemence,  and  at  another 
the  smiling  countenance  of  Rosalie.  The  latter  had  married 
during  the  previous  year;  Jean  had  given  her  away,  and 
joyously  on  the  wedding-night  had  he  danced  with  the 
girls  of  Longueval. 

Such  was  the  lieutenant  of  artillery  who  on  Saturday, 
May  28,  1881,  at  half-past  four  in  the  afternoon,  sprang 
from  his  horse  before  the  door  of  the  vicarage  of  Lon- 
gueval. He  entered  the  gate ; the  horse  obediently  followed 
and  went  by  himself  into  a little  shed  in  the  yard.  Pauline 
was  at  the  kitchen  window;  Jean  approached  and  kissed 
her  heartily  on  both  cheeks. 

“ Good-evening,  Pauline.  Is  all  well?  ” 

'‘Very  well.  I am  busy  preparing  your  dinner;  would 
you  like  to  know  what  you  are  going  to  have?  — potato- 
soup,  a leg  of  mutton,  and  a custard.” 

“That  is  excellent;  I shall  enjoy  everything,  for  I am 
dying  of  hunger.” 

“And  a salad;  I had  forgotten  it.  You  can  help  me 
cut  it  directly.  Dinner  will  be  at  half-past  six  exactly, 
for  at  half-past  seven  Monsieur  le  Cure  has  his  service 
for  the  month  of  Mary.” 


48 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


“Where  is  my  godfather?” 

“ You  will  find  him  in  the  garden.  He  is  very  sad  on 
account  of  this  sale  of  yesterday.” 

“ Yes,  I know,  I know.” 

“ It  will  cheer  him  a little  to  see  you ; he  is  always  so 
happy  when  you  are  here.  Take  care;  Loulou  is  going 
to  eat  the  climbing  roses.  How  hot  he  is ! ” 

“ I came  the  long  way  by  the  wood,  and  rode  very  fast.” 
Jean  captured  Loulou,  who  was  directing  his  steps 
towards  the  climbing  roses.  He  unsaddled  him,  fastened 
him  in  the  little  shed,  rubbed  him  down  with  a great 
handful  of  straw,  after  which  Jean  entered  the  house, 
relieved  himself  of  his  sword  and  kepi , replaced  the  latter 
by  an  old  straw  hat,  value  sixpence,  and  then  went  to 
look  for  his  godfather  in  the  garden. 

The  poor  Abbe  was  indeed  sad ; he  had  scarcely  closed 
an  eye  all  night,  — he  who  generally  slept  so  easily,  so 
quietly,  the  sound  sleep  of  a child.  His  soul  was  wrung. 
Longueval  in  the  hands  of  a foreigner,  of  a heretic,  of  an 
adventuress ! 

Jean  repeated  what  Paul  had  said  the  evening  before. 

“ You  will  have  money,  plenty  of  money,  for  your  poor.” 
“Money!  money!  Yes,  my  poor  will  not  lose,  perhaps 
they  will  even  gain  by  it;  but  I must  go  and  ask  for  this 
money,  and  in  the  salon,  instead  of  my  old  and  dear  friend, 
I shall  find  this  red-haired  American.  It  seems  that  she 
has  red  hair ! I will  certainly  go  for  the  sake  of  my  poor, 
I will  go.  And  she  will  give  me  the  money,  but  she  will 
give  me  nothing  but  money;  the  Marquise  gave  me  some- 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


51 


thing  else,  — her  life  and  her  heart.  Every  week  we  went 
together  to  visit  the  sick  and  the  poor;  she  knew  all  the 
sufferings  and  the  miseries  of  the  country  round,  and  when 
the  gout  nailed  me  to  my  easy-chair  she  made  the  rounds 
alone,  and  as  well,  or  better  than  I.” 

Pauline  interrupted  this  conversation.  She  carried  an 
immense  earthenware  salad  dish,  on  which  bloomed,  violent 
and  startling,  enormous  red  flowers. 

“ Here  I am,”  said  Pauline,  “ I am  going  to  cut  the 
salad.  Jean,  would  you  like  lettuce  or  endive?” 

“ Endive,”  said  Jean,  gayly.  “ It  is  a long  time  since  I 
have  had  any  endive.” 

“ Well,  you  shall  have  some  to-night.  Stay,  take  the 
dish.” 

Pauline  began  to  cut  the  endive,  and  Jean  bent  down 

to  receive  the  leaves  in  the  great  salad-disk.  The  Cure 

' K f 

looked  on.  ‘ . 

• ?y> 

At  this  moment  a sound  of  little  bells  was  heard.  A 
carriage  was  approaching;  one  heard  the  jangling  and 
creaking  of  its  wheels.  The  Cure’s  little  garden  was  only 
separated  from  the  road  by  a low  hedge,  in  the  middle  of 
which  was  a little  trellised  gate. 

All  three  looked  out,  and  saw  driving  down  the  road  a 
hired  carriage  of  most  primitive  construction,  drawn  by 
two  great  white  horses,  and  driven  by  an  old  coachman 
in  a blouse.  Beside  this  old  coachman  was  seated  a tall 
footman  in  livery,  of  the  most  severe  and  correct  demeanor. 
In  the  carriage  were  two  young  women,  dressed  both  alike 
in  very  elegant,  but  very  simple  travelling-costumes. 


52 


The  Abbe  Constantin. 


When  the  carriage  was  opposite  the  gate  the  coach- 
man stopped  his  horses,  and  addressing  the  Abbe,  “ Mon- 
sieur le  Cure,”  said  he,  “ these  ladies  wish  to  speak  to 
you.” 

Then,  turning  towards  the  ladies,  “ This  is  Monsieur  le 
Cure  de  Longueval.” 

The  Abbe  Constantin  approached  and  opened  the  little 
gate.  The  travellers  alighted.  Their  looks  rested,  not 
without  astonishment,  on  the  young  officer,  who  stood 
there,  a little  embarrassed,  with  his  straw  hat  in  one  hand, 
and  his  salad-dish,  all  overflowing  with  endive,  in  the 
other. 

/ 

The  visitors  entered  the  garden,  and  the  elder,  — she 
seemed  about  twenty-five,  — addressing  the  Abbe  Con- 
stantin, said  to  him  with  a little  foreign  accent,  very 
original  and  very  peculiar,  — 

I am  obliged  to  introduce  myself,  — Mrs.  Scott;  I am 
Mrs.  Scott ! It  was  I who  bought  the  castle  and  farms 
and  all  the  rest  here  at  the  sale  yesterday.  I hope  that 
I do  not  disturb  you,  and  that  you  can  spare  me  five 
minutes.”  Then,  pointing  to  her  travelling-companion, 
“ Miss  Bettina  Percival,  my  sister;  you  guessed  it,  I am 
sure.  We  are  very  much  alike,  are  we  not?  Ah,  Bettina! 
we  have  left  our  bags  in  the  carriage,  and  we  shall  want 
them  directly.” 

“ I will  get  them.” 

And  as  Miss  Percival  prepared  to  go  for  the  two  little 
bags,  Jean  said  to  her, — 

“ Pray  allow  me.” 


-JBL 


The  Abbe  Conslantin. 


55 


“ I am  really  very  sorry  to  give  you  so  much  trouble. 
The  servant  will  give  them  to  you ; they  are  on  the 
front  seat.” 

She  had  the  same  accent  as  her  sister,  the  same  large 
eyes,  — black,  laughing,  and  gay,  — and  the  same  hair, 
not  red,  but  fair,  with  golden  shades,  where  daintily 
danced  the  light  of  the  sun.  She  bowed  to  Jean  with  a 
pretty  little  smile,  and  he,  having  returned  to  Pauline 
the  salad-dish  full  of  endive,  went  to  look  for  the  two 
little  bags.  Meanwhile,  much  agitated,  sorely  disturbed, 
the  Abbe  Constantin  introduced  into  his  vicarage  the 
new  Chatelaine  de  Longueval. 

V'V: 

f. 

• • Ui\  ' 'rvf/,v  ' ' 


CHAPTER  III. 

npHIS  vicarage  of  Longueval  was  far  from  being  a 
-*■  palace.  The  same  apartment  on  the  ground-floor 
served  for  dining  and  drawing  room,  communicating  di- 
rectly with  the  kitchen  by  a door,  which  stood  always 
wide  open.  This  room  was  furnished  in  the  most  scanty 
manner;  two  old  armchairs,  six  straw  chairs,  a side- 
board, a round  table.  Pauline  had  already  laid  the  cloth 
for  the  dinner  of  the  Abbe  and  Jean. 

Mrs.  Scott  and  Miss  Percival  went  and  came,  examin- 
ing the  domestic  arrangements  of  the  Cure  with  a sort 
of  childish  wonder. 

“ But  the  garden,  the  house,  everything  is  charming,” 
said  Mrs.  Scott. 


53 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


They  both  boldly  penetrated  into  the  kitchen;  the  Abbe 
Constantin  followed  them,  scared,  bewildered,  stupefied  at 
the  suddenness  and  resolution  of  this  American  invasion. 

Old  Pauline,  with  an  anxious  and  gloomy  air,  exam- 
ined the  two  foreigners. 

'‘There  they  are,  then,”  she  said  to  herself,  “these 
Protestants,  these  accursed  heretics  ! ” 

“I  must  compliment  you,”  said  Bettina;  “it  is  so 
beautifully  kept.  Look,  Suzie,  is  not  the  vicarage  al- 
together exactly  what  you  wished?” 

“And  so  is  the  Cure,”  rejoined  Mrs.  Scott.  “Yes, 
Monsieur  le  Cure,  if  you  will  permit  me  to  say  so,  you 
do  not  know  how  happy  it  makes  me  to  find  you  just 
what  you  are.  In  the  railway  carriage  what  did  I say  to 
you,  Bettina?  And  again  just  now,  when  we  were  driv- 
ing here?  ” 

“ My  sister  said  to  me,  Monsieur  le  Cure,  that  what 
she  desired  above  everything  was  a priest,  not  young 
or  melancholy  or  severe,  but  one  with  white  hair  and  a 
kind  and  gentle  manner.  And  that  is  exactly  what  you 
are,  Monsieur  le  Cure,  exactly.  No,  we  could  not  have 
been  more  fortunate.  Excuse  me  for  speaking  to  you  in 
this  manner.  The  Parisians  know  how  to  make  pretty 
phrases,  but  I do  not;  and  in  speaking  French  I should 
often  be  quite  at  a loss  if  I did  not  say  everything  in  a 
simple  and  childish  way,  as  it  comes  into  my  head.  In 
a word,  I am  satisfied,  quite  satisfied,  and  I hope  that 
you  too,  Monsieur  le  Cure,  will  be  as  satisfied  with  your 
new  parishioners,” 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


59 


“ My  parishioners ! ” exclaimed  the  Cure,  all  at  once 
recovering  speech,  movement,  life,  — everything  which  for 
some  moments  had  completely  abandoned  him.  “ My 
parishioners ! Pardon  me,  Madame,  Mademoiselle,  I am 
so  agitated.  You  will  be — you  are  Catholics?” 

“ Certainly  we  are  Catholics.” 

“ Catholics  ! Catholics  ! ” repeated  the  Cure. 

“ Catholics  ! Catholics  ! ” echoed  old  Pauline. 

Mrs.  Scott  looked  from  the  Cure  to  Pauline,  from 
Pauline  to  the  Cure,  much  surprised  that  a single  word 
should  produce  such  an  effect,  and  to  complete  the  tab- 
leau, Jean  appeared  carrying  the  two  little  travelling-bags. 

The  Cure  and  Pauline  saluted  him  with  the  same 
words,  — 

“ Catholics  ! Catholics  ! ” 

“ Ah ! I begin  to  understand,”  said  Mrs.  Scott,  laugh- 
ing. “It  is  our  name,  our  country;  you  must  have 
thought  that  we  were  Protestants.  Not  at  all.  Our 
mother  was  a Canadian,  French  and  Catholic  by  de- 
scent; that  is  why  my  sister  and  I both  speak  French, 
with  an  accent,  it  is  true,  and  with  certain  American 
idioms,  but  yet  in  such  a manner  as  to  be  able  to  ex- 
press nearly  all  we  want  to  say.  My  husband  is  a Prot- 
estant; but  he  allows  me  complete  liberty,  and  my  two 
children  are  Catholics.  That  is  why,  Monsieur  l’Abbe, 
we  wished  to  come  and  see  you  the  very  first  day.” 

“ That  is  one  reason,”  continued  Bettina,  “ but  there  is 
also  another;  but  for  that  reason  we  shall  want  our 
little  bags.” 


6o 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


“ Here  they  are,”  said  Jean. 

While  the  two  little  bags  passed  from  the  hands  of 
the  officer  to  those  of  Mrs.  Scott  and  Bettina,  the  Cure 
introduced  Jean  to  the  two  Americans;  but  his  agitation 
was  so  great  that  the  introduction  was  not  made  strictly 
according  to  rule.  The  Cure  only  forgot  one  thing,  it 
is  true,  but  that  was  a thing  tolerably  essential  in  an  in- 
troduction,— the  family  name  of  Jean. 

“ It  is  Jean,”  said  he,  “ my  godson,  lieutenant  of  ar- 
tillery, now  quartered  at  Souvigny.  He  is  one  of  the 
family.” 

Jean  made  two  deep  bows,  the  Americans  two  little 
ones,  after  which  they  foraged  in  their  bags,  from  which 
each  drew  a rouleau  of  one  thousand  francs,  daintily 
enclosed  in  green  sheaths  of  serpent-skin,  clasped  with 
gold. 

“ I have  brought  you  this  for  your  poor,”  said  Mrs. 
Scott. 

“ And  I have  brought  this,”  said  Bettina. 

“ And  besides  that,  Monsieur  le  Cure,  I am  going  to 
give  you  five  hundred  francs  a month,”  said  Mrs.  Scott. 

“And  I, will  do  like  my  sister.” 

Delicately  they  slipped  their  offerings  into  the  right 
and  left  hands  of  the  Cure,  who,  looking  at  each  hand 
alternately,  said,  — 

“What  are  these  little  things?  They  are  very  heavy; 
there  must  be  money  in  them.  Yes,  but  how  much, 
how  much?” 

The  Abbe  Constantin  was  seventy-two,  and  much 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


61 


money  had  passed  through  his  hands;  but  this  money 
had  come  to  him  in  small  sums,  and  the  idea  of  such 
an  offering  as  this  had  never  entered  his  head.  Two 
thousand  francs  ! Never  had  he  had  two  thousand  francs 
in  his  possession,  — no,  not  even  one  thousand.  He 
stammered,  — 

“I  am  very  grateful  to  you,  Madame;  you  are  very 
good,  Mademoiselle — ” 

But  after  all  he  could  not  thank  them  enough,  and 
Jean  thought  it  necessary  to  come  to  his  assistance. 

“These  ladies  have  just  given  you  two  thousand 
francs ! ” 

And  then,  full  of  warmest  gratitude,  the  Cure  cried, — 

“ Two  thousand  francs ! Two  thousand  francs  for  my 
poor ! ” 

Pauline  suddenly  reappeared. 

“Here,  Pauline,”  said  the  Cure,  “put  away  this  money, 
and  take  care  — ” 

Old  Pauline  filled  many  positions  in  this  simple  house* 
hold,  — cook,  maid-of-all-work,  treasurer,  dispenser.  Her 
hands  received  with  a respectful  tremble  these  two  little 
rouleaux , which  represented  so  much  misery  alleviated, 
so  much  suffering  relieved. 

“ A thousand  francs  a month ! But  there  will  be  no 
poor  left  in  the  country.” 

“ That  i$  just  what  I wish.  I am  rich,  very  rich,  and 
so  is  my  sister ; she  is  even  richer  than  I am,  because  a 
young  girl  has  not  so  many  expenses,  while  I — Ah,  well ! 
I spend  all  that  I can,- — all  that  I can.  When  one  has 


62 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


a great  deal  of  money,  too  much,  more  than  one  feels 
to  be  just,  tell  me,  Monsieur  le  Cure,  is  there  any  other 
way  of  obtaining  pardon  than  to  keep  one’s  hands  open, 
and  give,  give,  give,  all  one  can,  and  as  usefully  as  one 
can?  Besides,  you  can  give  me  something  in  return,” 
and  turning  to  Pauline,  “Will  you  be  so  kind  as  to  give 
me  a glass  of  water?  No,  nothing  else,  a glass  of  cold 
water;  I am  dying  of  thirst.” 

“ And  I,”  said  Bettina,  laughing,  while  Pauline  ran  to 
fetch  the  water,  “I  am  dying  of  something  else,  — of 
hunger,  to  tell  the  truth.  Monsieur  le  Cure,  I know 
that  I am  going  to  be  dreadfully  intrusive.  I see  your 
cloth  is  laid;  could  you  not  invite  us  to  dinner?” 
“Bettina!”  said  Mrs.  Scott. 

“ Let  me  alone,  Suzie,  let  me  alone.  Won’t  you,  Mon- 
sieur le  Cure?  I am  sure  you  will.” 

But  he  could  find  no  reply.  The  old  Cure  hardly 
knew  where  he  was.  They  had  taken  his  vicarage  by 
storm ; they  were  Catholics ; they  had  promised  him  a 
thousand  francs  a month,  and  now  they  wanted  to  dine 
with  him.  Ah,  that  was  the  last  stroke ! Terror  seized 
him  at  the  thought  of  having  to  do  the  honors  of  his 
leg  of  mutton  and  custard  to  these  two  absurdly  rich 
Americans.  He  murmured, — 

“Dine!  you  would  like  to  dine  here?” 

Jean  thought  he  must  interpose  again.  “It  would  be 
a great  pleasure  to  my  godfather,”  said  he,  “ if  you 
would  kindly  stay.  But  I know  what  disturbs  him.  We 
were  going  to  dine  together, — just  the  two  of  us, — 


The  Abbe  Constantin. 


63 


and  you  must  not  expect  a feast.  You  will  be  very 
indulgent?  ” 

“Yes,  yes,  very  indulgent,”  replied  Bettina;  then,  ad“ 
dressing  her  sister,  “ Come,  Suzie,  you  must  not  be 

cross,  because  I have  been  a little,  — you  know  it  is  my 

* 0 

way  to  be  a little — Let  us^  stay,  will  you?  It  will  do 
us  good  to  pass  a quiet  hour  here  after  such  a day  as 
we  have  had,  — on  the  railway,  in  the  carriage,  in  the 
heat,  in  the  dust;  we  had  such  a horrid  luncheon  in 
such  a horrid  hotel.  We  were  to  have  returned  to  the 
same  hotel  at  seven  o’clock  to  dine,  and  then  take  the 
train  back  to  Paris ; but  dinner  here  will  be  really  much 
nicer.  You  won’t  say  no?  Ah,  how  good  you  are, 
Suzie ! ” 

She  embraced  her  sister  fondly;  then  turning  towards 
the  Cure,  she  said,  — 

“ If  you  only  knew,  Monsieur  le  Cure,  how  good 
she  is ! ” 

“Bettina!  Bettina!” 

“Come,”  said  Jean,  “quick,  Pauline,  two  more  plates; 
I will  help  you.” 

“And  so  will  I,”  said  Bettina;  “I  will  help  too.  Oh, 
do  let  me ! it  will  be  so  amusing.  Monsieur  le  Cure, 
you  will  let  me  do  a little  as  if  I were  at  home?” 

In  a moment  she  had  taken  off  her  mantle,  and  Jean 
could  admire  in  all  its  exquisite  perfection  a figure 
marvellous  for  suppleness  and  grace.  Miss  Percival  then 
removed  her  hat,  but  with  a little  too  much  haste,  for 
this  was  the  signal  for  a charming  catastrophe.  A whole 


64 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


avalanche  descended  in  torrents,  in  long  cascades,  over 
Bettina’s  shoulders.  She  was  standing  before  a window 
flooded  by  the  rays  of  the  sun;  and  this  golden  light, 
falling  full  on  this  golden  hair,  formed  a delicious  frame 
for  the  sparkling  beauty  of  the  young  girl.  Confused 
and  blushing,  Bettina  was  obliged  to  call  her  sister  to 
her  aid,  and  Mrs.  Scott  had  much  trouble  in  introducing 
order  into  this  disorder. 

When  this  disaster  was  at  length  repaired,  nothing 
could  prevent  Bettina  from  rushing  on  plates,  knives, 
and  forks. 

“ Oh,  indeed ! ” said  she  to  Jean,  “ I know  very  well 
how  to  lay  the  cloth.  Ask  my  sister.  Tell  him,  Suzie, 
when  I was  a little  girl  in  New  York,  I used  to  lay  the 
cloth  very  well,  didn’t  I?” 

“Very  well  indeed,”  said  Mrs.  Scott. 

And  then,  while  begging  the  Cure  to  excuse  Bettina’s 
want  of  thought,  she  too  took  off  her  hat  and  mantle, 
so  that  Jean  had  again  the  very  agreeable  spectacle  of  a 
charming  figure  and  beautiful  hair;  but  to  Jean’s  great 
regret,  the  catastrophe  had  not  a second  representation. 

In  a few  minutes  Mrs.  Scott,  Miss  Percival,  the  Cure, 
and  Jean  were  seated  round  the  little  vicarage  table; 
then,  thanks  partly  to  the  impromptu  and  original  nature 
of  the  entertainment,  partly  to  the  good-humor  and 
perhaps  slightly  audacious  gayety  of  Bettina,  the  conver- 
sation took  a turn  of  the  frankest  and  most  cordial 
familiarity. 

“Now,  Monsieur  le  Cure,”  said  Bettina,  “you  shall  see 


t* 


uBmr 

OF  TH£ 

!S|TV  Of  IUJM  § 


/ 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


6 7 


if  I did  not  speak  the  truth  when  I said  I was  dying  of 
hunger.  I never  was  so  glad  to  sit  down  to  dinner. 
This  is  such  a delightful  finish  to  our  day.  Both  my 
sister  and  I are  perfectly  happy  now  we  have  this  castle 
and  these  farms  and  the  forest.” 

“ And  then,”  said  Mrs.  Scott,  “ to  have  all  that  in  such 
an  extraordinary  and  unexpected  manner!  We  were  so 
taken  by  surprise.” 

“You  may  indeed  say  so,  Suzie.  You  must  know 
Monsieur  l’Abbe,  that  yesterday  was  my  sister’s  birthday. 
But  first,  pardon  me,  M. — Jean,  is  it  not?” 


“Well,  M.  Jean,  a little  more  of  that  excellent  soup, 
if  you  please.” 

The  Abbe  was  beginning  to  recover  a little,  but  he 
was  still  too  agitated  to  perform  the  duties  of  a host. 
It  was  Jean  who  had  undertaken  the  management  of  his 
godfather’s  little  dinner.  He  filled  the  plate  of  the 
charming  American,  who  fixed  upon  him  the  glance  of 
two  large  eyes,  in  which  sparkled  frankness,  daring,  and 
gayety.  The  eyes  of  Jean,  meanwhile,  repaid  Miss  Per- 
cival  in  the  same  coin.  It  was  scarcely  three-quarters  of 
an  hour  since  the  young  American  and  the  young  officer 
had  made  acquaintance  in  the  Cure’s  garden,  yet  both 
felt  already  perfectly  at  ease  with  each  other,  full  of 
confidence,  almost  like  old  friends. 


“ I told  you,  Monsieur  l’Abbe,”  continued  Bettina,  “that 
yesterday  was  my  sister’s  birthday.  A week  ago  my 
brother-in-law  was  obliged  to  return  to  America;  but  at 


68 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


starting  he  said  to  my  sister,  ‘ I shall  not  be  with  you 
on  your  birthday,  but  you  will  hear  from  me.’  So  yes- 
terday presents  and  bouquets  arrived  from  all  quarters, 
but  from  my  brother-in-law,  up  to  five  o’clock,  nothing  — 
nothing.  We  were  just  starting  for  a ride  in  the  Bois, 
and  a propos  of  riding”  — she  stopped,  and  looking  curi- 
ously at  Jean’s  great  dusty  boots  — “ M.  Jean,  you  have 
spurs  on.” 

“ Yes,  Miss  Percival.” 

“ Then  you  are  in  the  cavalry?  ” 

“ I am  in  the  artillery,  and  that,  you  know,  is  cavalry.” 

“ And  your  regiment  is  quartered  — ” 

“ Quite  near  here.” 

“ Then  you  will  be  able  to  ride  with  us?  ” 

“ With  the  greatest  pleasure.” 

“ That  is  settled.  Let  me  see  ; where  was  I?  ” 

“You  do  not  know  at  all  where  you  are,  Bettina,  and 
you  are  telling  these  gentlemen  things  which  cannot  in- 
terest ’them.” 

“ Oh,  I beg  your  pardon  ! ” said  the  Cure.  “ The  sale 
of  this  estate  is  the  only  subject  of  conversation  in  the 
neighborhood  just  now,  and  Miss  Percival’s  account  in- 
terests me  very  much.” 

“You  see,  Suzie,  my  account  interests  Monsieur  le 
Cure  very  much;  then  I shall  continue.  We  went  for 
our  ride,  we  returned  at  seven  o’clock — nothing.  We 
dined;  and  just  when  we  were  leaving  the  table  a tele- 
gram from  America  arrived.  It  contained  only  a few 
lines : — 


The  A bbe  Constantin . 


69 


“ 4 1 have  ordered  the  purchase  to-day,  for  you  and  in  your  name, 
of  the  castle  and  lands  of  Longueval,  near  Souvigny,  on  the  north- 
ern railway  line.’ 

“ Then  we  both  burst  into  a wild  fit  of  laughter  at  the 
thought.” 

“ No,  no,  Bettina;  you  calumniate  us  both.  Our  first 
thought  was  one  of  very  sincere  gratitude,  for  both  my 
sister  and  I are  very  fond  of  the  country.  My  husband 
knows  that  we  had  longed  to  have  an  estate  in  France. 
For  six  months  he  had  been  looking  out,  and  found 
nothing.  At  last  he  discovered  this  one,  and  without 
telling  us,  ordered  it  to  be  bought  for  my  birthday.  It 
was  a delicate  attention.” 

“Yes,  Suzie,  you  are  right;  but  after  the  little  fit  of 
gratitude  we  had  a great  one  of  gayety.” 

“Yes,  I confess  it.  When  we  realized  that  we  had  sud- 
denly become  possessed  of  a castle,  without  knowing  in 
the  least  where  it  was,  what  it  was  like,  or  how  much  it 
had  cost,  it  seemed  so  like  a fairy  tale.  Well,  for  five 
good  minutes  we  laughed  with  all  our  hearts,  then  we 
seized  the  map  of  France,  and  succeeded  in  discovering 
Souvigny.  When  we  had  finished  with  the  map  it  was 
the  turn  of  the  railway  guide,  and  this  morning,  by  the 
ten  o’clock  express,  we  arrived  at  Souvigny. 

“We  have  passed  the  whole  day  in  visiting  the  castle, 
the  farms,  the  woods,  the  stables.  We  are  delighted  with 
what  we  have  seen.  Only,  Monsieur  le  Cure,  there  is 
one  thing  about  which  I feel  curious.  I know  that  the 
place  was  sold  yesterday;  but  I have  not  dared  to  ask 


70 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


either  agent  or  farmer  who  accompanied  me  in  my  walk 
— for  my  ignorance  would  have  seemed  too  absurd  — I 
have  not  dared  to  ask  how  much  it  cost.  In  the  telegram 
my  husband  does  not  mention  the  sum.  Since  I am  so 
delighted  with  the  place,  the  price  is  only  a detail ; but 
still  I should  like  to  know  it.  Tell  me,  Monsieur  le  Cure, 
do  you  know  what  it  cost?  ” 

“ An  enormous  price,”  replied  the  Cure,  “ for  many 
hopes  and  many  ambitions  were  excited  about  Longueval.” 
“An  enormous  price!  You  frighten  me!  How  much 
exactly?  ” 

“ Three  millions  ! ” 

“Is  that  all?  Is  that  all?”  cried  Mrs.  Scott.  “The 
castle,  the  farms,  the  forest,  all  for  three  millions.” 

“But  that  is  nothing,”  said  Bettina.  “That  delicious 
little  stream  which  wanders  through  the  park  is  alone 
worth  three  millions.” 

“ And  you  said  just  now,  Monsieur  le  Cure,  that  there 
were  several  persons  who  disputed  the  purchase  with 
us?  ” 

“ Yes,  Mrs.  Scott.” 

• “And  after  the  sale  was  my  name  mentioned  among 
these  persons?” 

“ Certainly  it  was.” 

“ And  when  my  name  was  mentioned  was  there  no  one 
there  who  spoke  of  me?  Yes,  yes,  your  silence  is  a suffi- 
cient answer;  they  did  speak  of  me.  Well,  Monsieur  le 
Cure,  I am  now  serious,  very  serious.  I beg  you  as  a 
favor  to  tell  me  what  was  said.” 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


7i 


“ But,”  replied  the  poor  Cure,  who  felt  himself  upon 
burning  coals,  “ they  spoke  of  your  large  fortune.” 

“ Yes,  of  course,  they  would  be  obliged  to  speak  of 
that;  and  no  doubt  they  said  that  I was  very  rich,  but  had 
not  been  rich  long,  — that  I was  a parvenue . Very  well, 
but  that  is  not  all ; they  must  have  said  something  else.” 

“ No,  indeed  ; I have  heard  nothing  else.” 

“ Oh,  Monsieur  le  Cure ! that  is  what  you  may  call  a 
white  lie,  and  it  is  making  you  very  unhappy,  because 
naturally  you  are  the  soul  of  truth;  but  if  I torment  you 
thus  it  is  because  I have  the  greatest  interest  in  knowing 
what  was  said.” 

“You  are  right,”  interrupted  Jean;  “you  are  right. 
They  said  you  were  one  of  the  most  elegant,  the  most 
brilliant,  and  the  — ” 

“ And  one  of  the  prettiest  women  in  Paris.  With  a 
little  indulgence  they  might  say  that;  but  that  is  not  all 
yet,  — there  is  something  else.” 

“ Oh  ! I assure  you  — ” 

“ Yes,  there  is  something  else ; and  I should  like  to 
hear  it  this  very  moment,  and  I should  like  the  information 
to  be  very  frank  and  very  exact.  It  seems  to  me  that  I 
am  in  a lucky  vein  to-day;  and  I feel  as  if  you  were  both 
a little  inclined  to  be  my  friends,  and  that  you  will  be  so 
entirely  some  day.  Well,  tell  me  if  I am  right  in  sup- 
posing that  should  false  and  absurd  stories  be  told  about 
me,  you  will  help  me  to  contradict  them?” 

“ Yes,”  replied  Jean;  “you  are  right  in  believing  that.” 

“ Well,  then,  it  is  to  you  that  I address  myself.  You 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


72 


are  a soldier,  and  courage  is  part  of  your  profession. 
Promise  me  to  be  brave.  Will  you  promise  me?” 
a What  do  you  understand  by  being  brave?” 

“ Promise,  promise,  — without  explanations,  without 
conditions.” 

“ Well,  I promise.” 

“You  will  then  reply  frankly,  Wes’  or  ‘No,’  to 
questions?  ” 

“ I will.” 

“ Did  they  say  that  I had  begged  in  the  streets  of  New 
York?” 

“ Yes,  they  said  so.” 

“ Did  they  say  I had  been  a rider  in  a travelling-circus?” 
“ Yes,  they  said  that  too.” 

“Very  well;  that  is  plain  speaking.  Now  remark  first 
that  in  all  this  there  is  nothing  that  one  might  not  ac- 
knowledge if  it  were  true ; but  it  is  not  true,  and  have  I 
not  the  right  of  denying  it?  My  history,  I will  tell  it 
you  in  a few  words.  I am  going  to  pass  a part  of  my 
life  in  this  place,  and  I desire  that  all  should  know  who 
I am  and  whence  I come.  To  begin  then.  Poor?  Yes, 
I have  been,  and  very  poor.  Eight  years  ago  my  father 
died,  and  was  soon  followed  by  my  mother.  I was  then 
eighteen,  and  Bettina  nine.  We  were  alone  in  the  world, 
encumbered  with  heavy  debts  and  a great  lawsuit.  My 
fathers  last  words  had  been,  ‘ Suzie,  never,  never  com- 
promise. Millions,  my  children,  you  will  have  millions.’ 
He  embraced  us  both;  soon  delirium  seized  him,  and  he 
died,  repeating,  ‘Millions!  millions!’  The  next  morning 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


73 


a lawyer  appeared,  who  offered  to  pay  all  our  debts,  and 
to  give  us  besides  ten  thousand  dollars,  if  we  would  give 
up  all  our  claims.  I refused.  It  was  then  that  for  several 
months  we  were  very  poor.” 

“ And  it  was  then,”  said  Bettina,  “ that  I used  to  lay 
the  cloth.” 

“ I spent  my  life  among  the  solicitors  of  New  York, 
but  no  one  would  take  up  my  case.  Everywhere  I re- 
ceived the  same  reply,  'Your  cause  is  very  doubtful;  you 
have  rich  and  formidable  adversaries ; you  need  money, 
large  sums  of  money,  to  bring  such  a case  to  a conclusion, 
and  you  have  nothing.  They  offer  to  pay  your  debts, 
and  to  give  you  ten  thousand  dollars  besides.  Accept 
it,  and  sell  your  case.’  But  my  father’s  last  words  rang 
in  my  ears,  and  I would  not.  Poverty,  however,  might  soon 
have  forced  me  to,  when  one  day  I made  another  attempt 
on  one  of  my  father’s  old  friends,  a banker  in  New  York, 
Mr.  William  Scott.  He  was  not  alone;  a young  man  was 
sitting  in  his  office. 

“ ‘ You  may  speak  freely,’  said  Mr.  Scott;  ‘ it  is  my  son 
Richard.’ 

“ I looked  at  the  young  man,  he  looked  at  me,  and  we 
recognized  each  other. 

“ ‘ Suzie  ! ’ 

“ ‘ Richard  ! ’ 

"Formerly,  as  children,  we  had  often  played  together  and 
were  great  friends.  Seven  or  eight  years  before  this  meet- 
ing he  had  been  sent  to  Europe  to  finish  his  education. 
We  shook  hands;  his  father  made  me  sit  down,  and  asked 


74 


The  A bbe  Constantin . 


what  had  brought  me.  He  listened  to  my  tale,  and 
replied,  — 

“‘You  would  require  twenty  or  thirty  thousand  dollars. 
No  one  would  lend  you  such  a sum  upon  the  uncertain 
chances  of  a very  complicated  lawsuit.  If  you  are  in 
difficulties;  if  you  need  assistance  — ’ 

“ ‘ It  is  not  that,  father.  That  is  not  what  Miss  Percival 
asks.’ 

“ ‘ I know  that  very  well,  but  what  she  asks  is  im- 
possible.’ 

“ He  rose  to  let  me  out.  Then  the  sense  of  my  helpless- 
ness overpowered  me  for  the  first  time  since  my  father’s 
death.  I burst  into  a violent  flood  of  tears.  An  hour 
later  Richard  Scott  was  with  me. 

“ ‘ Suzie,’  he  said,  ‘ promise  to  accept  what  I am  going  to 
offer.’ 

“ I promised  him. 

“ ‘Well,’  said  he,  ‘ on  the  single  condition  that  my  father 
shall  know  nothing  about  it,  I place  at  your  disposal  the 
necessary  sum.’ 

“ ‘ But  then  you  ought  to  know  what  the  lawsuit  is,  — what 
it  is  worth.’ 

“‘I  do  not  know  a single  word  about  it,  and  I do  not 
wish  to.  Besides,  you  have  promised  to  accept  it;  you 
cannot  withdraw  now.’ 

“ I accepted.  Three  months  after,  the  case  was  ours. 
All  this  vast  property  became  beyond  dispute  the  property 
of  Bettina  and  me.  The  other  side  offered  to  buy  it  of  us 
for  five  millions,  I consulted  Richard. 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


75 


“ ‘ Refuse  it  and  wait,’  said  he;  'if  they  offer  you  such  a 
sum  it  is  because  the  property  is  worth  double.’ 

“ 'However,  I must  return  you  your  money;  I owe  you  a 
great  deal.’ 

" ' Oh  ! as  for  that  there  is  no  hurry.  I am  very  easy 
about  it;  my  money  is  quite  safe  now.’ 

" ' But  I should  like  to  pay  you  at  once.  I have  a horror 
of  debt ! Perhaps  there  is  another  way  without  selling  the 
property.  Richard,  will  you  be  my  husband?’ 

"Yes,  Monsieur  le  Cure,  yes,”  said  Mrs.  Scott,  laughing; 
" it  is  thus  that  I threw  myself  at  my  husband’s  head.  It  is 
I who  asked  his  hand.  But  really  I was  obliged  to  act  thus. 
Never,  never  would  he  have  spoken ; I had  become  too 
rich,  and  as  it  was  me  he  loved  and  not  my  money,  he  was 
becoming  terribly  afraid  of  me.  That  is  the  history  of  my 
marriage.  As  to  the  history  of  my  fortune,  it  can  be  told  in 
a few  words.  There  were  indeed  millions  in  those  wide  lands 
of  Colorado.  They  discovered  there  abundant  mines  of 
silver,  and  from  those  mines  we  draw  every  year  an  income 
which  is  beyond  reason  ; but  we  have  agreed — my  husband, 
my  sister,  and  myself — to  give  a very  large  share  of  this  in- 
come to  the  poor.  You  see,  Monsieur  le  Cure,  it  is  because 
we  have  known  very  hard  times  that  you  will  always  find 
us  ready  to  help  those  who  are,  as  we  have  been  ourselves, 
involved  in  the  difficulties  and  sorrows  of  life.  And  now, 
M.  Jean,  will  you  forgive  me  this  long  discourse,  and  offer 
me  a little  of  that  cream,  which  looks  so  very  good?  ” 

This  cream  was  Pauline’s  custard,  and  while  Jean  was 
serving  Mrs.  Scott,  — 


76 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


“ I have  not  yet  finished,”  she  continued.  “ You  ought 
to  know  what  gave  rise  to  these  extravagant  stories.  A 
year  ago,  when  we  settled  in  Paris,  we  considered  it  our 
duty  on  our  arrival  to  give  a certain  sum  to  the  poor.  Who 
was  it  spoke  of  that?  None  of  us,  certainly,  but  the  thing 
was  told  in  the  newspaper,  with  the  amount.  Immediately 
two  young  reporters  hastened  to  subject  Mr.  Scott  to  a 
little  examination  on  his  past  history;  they  wished  to  give 
a sketch  of  our  career  in  the  — what  do  you  call  them?  — 
society  papers.  Mr.  Scott  is  sometimes  a little  hasty;  he 
was  so  on  this  occasion,  and  dismissed  these  gentlemen 
rather  brusquely  without  telling  them  anything.  So,  as 
they  did  not  know  our  real  history,  they  invented  one,  and 
certainly  displayed  a very  lively  imagination.  First  they 
related  how  I had  begged  in  the  snow  in  New  York;  the 
next  day  appeared  a still  more  sensational  article,  which 
made  me  a rider  in  a circus  in  Philadelphia.  You  have 
some  very  funny  papers  in  France;  so  have  we  in  America 
for  the  matter  of  that.” 

During  the  last  five  minutes  Pauline  had  been  making 
desperate  'signs  to  the  Cure,  who  persisted  in  not  under- 
standing them,  till  at  last  the  poor  woman,  calling  up  all  her 
courage,  said,  — 

“ Monsieur  le  Cure,  it  is  a quarter  past  seven.” 

“ A quarter  past  seven ! Ladies,  I must  beg  you  to 
excuse  me.  This  evening  I have  the  special  service  for 
the  month  of  Mary.” 

“The  month  of  Mary?  And  will  the  service  begin 
directly?  ” 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


77 


“ Yes,  directly.” 

“ And  when  does  our  train  start  for  Paris?  ” 

“ At  half-past  nine,”  replied  Jean. 

“ Suzie,  can  we  not  go  to  church  first?  ” 

“Yes,  we  will  go,”  replied  Mrs.  Scott;  “but  before  we 
separate,  Monsieur  le  Cure,  I have  one  favor  to  ask  you. 
I should  like  very  much,  the  first  time  I dine  at  Longueval, 
that  you  would  dine  with  me,  and  you  too,  M.  Jean, 
just  us  four  alone  like  to-day.  Oh,  do  not  refuse  my 
invitation  ! it  is  given  with  all  my  heart.” 

“ And  accepted  as  heartily,”  replied  Jean. 

“ I will  write  and  tell  you  the  day,  and  it  shall  be  as  soon 
as  possible.  You  call  that  having  a house-warming,  don’t 
you?  Well,  we  will  have  the  house-warming  all  to 
ourselves.” 

Meanwhile  Pauline  had  drawn  Miss  Percival  into  a corner 
of  the  room,  and  was  talking  to  her  with  great  animation. 
The  conversation  ended  with  these  words,  — 

“ You  will  be  there,”  said  Bettina,  “ and  you  will  tell  me 
the  exact  moment?” 

“ I will  tell  you ; but  take  care.  Here  is  Monsieur  le 
Cure;  he  must  not  suspect  anything.” 

The  two  sisters,  the  Cure,  and  Jean  left  the  house.  To  go 
to  the  church  they  were  obliged  to  cross  the  churchyard. 
The  evening  was  delicious.  Slowly,  silently,  under  the  rays 
of  the  setting  sun  the  four  walked  down  a long  avenue. 

On  their  way  was  the  monument  to  Dr.  Reynaud,  very 
simple,  but  which  yet  by  its  proportions  showed  distinctly 
among  the  other  tombs. 


78 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


Mrs.  Scott  and  Bettina  stopped,  struck  with  this  inscrip- 
tion carved  on  the  stone : — 

“ Here  lies  Dr.  Marcel  Reynaud,  Surgeon-Major  of  the  Souvigny 
Mobiles;  killed  Jan.  8,  1871,  at  the  battle  of  Villersexel.  Pray 
for  him  ! ” 

When  they  had  read  it,  the  Cure,  pointing  to  Jean,  said,  — 

“ It  was  his  father ! ” 

The  two  sisters  drew  near  the  tomb,  and  with  bent  heads 
remained  there  for  some  minutes,  pensive,  touched,  contem- 
plative. Then  both  turned,  and  at  the  same  moment,  by 
the  same  impulse,  offered  their  hands  to  Jean,  then  con- 
tinued their  walk  to  the  church.  Their  first  prayer  at 
Longueval  had  been  for  the  father  of  Jean. 

The  Cure  went  to  put  on  his  surplice  and  stole.  Jean 
conducted  Mrs.  Scott  to  the  seat  which  belonged  to  the 
masters  of  Longueval. 

Pauline  had  gone  on  before.  She  was  waiting  for  Miss 
Percival  in  the  shadow  behind  one  of  the  pillars.  By  a 
steep  and  narrow  staircase  she  led  Bettina  to  the  gallery, 
and  placed  her  before  the  harmonium. 

Preceded  by  two  little  chorister-boys,  the  old  Cure  left 
the  vestry,  and  at  the  moment  when  he  knelt  on  the  steps 
of  the  altar,  ‘ Now,  Miss,”  said  Pauline,  whose  heart  beat 
with  impatience.  “ Poor  dear  man,  how  pleased  he  will 
be!  ” 

When  he  heard  the  sound  of  the  music  rise,  soft  as  a 
murmur,  and  spread  through  the  little  church,  the  Abbe 
Constantin  was  filled  with  such  emotion,  such  joy,  that  the 


V, 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


81 


tears  came  to  his  eyes.  He  could  not  remember  having 
wept  since  the  day  when  Jean  had  said  that  he  wished  to 
share  all  that  he  possessed  with  the  mother  and  sister  of 
those  who  had  fallen  by  his  father’s  side  under  the  Prussian 
bullets. 

To  bring  tears  to  the  eyes  of  the  old  priest  a little  Ameri- 
can had  been  brought  across  the  seas  to  play  a revery  of 
Chopin  in  the  little  church  of  Longueval. 


CHAPTER 


IV. 


r I '''HE  next  day,  at  half-past  five  in  the  morning,  the 
^ bugle-call  rang  through  the  barrack-yard  at  Sou- 
vigny.  Jean  mounted  his  horse,  and  took  his  place  with 
his  division.  By  the  end  of  May  all  the  recruits  in  the 
army  are  sufficiently  instructed  to  be  capable  of  sharing 
in  the  general  evolutions.  Almost  every  day  manoeuvres 
of  the  mounted  artillery  are  executed  on  the  parade- 
ground.  Jean  loved  his  profession;  he  was  in  the  habit 
of  inspecting  carefully  the  grooming  and  harness  of  the 
horses,  the  equipment  and  carriage  of  his  men.  This 
morning,  however,  he  bestowed  but  scant  attention  on  all 
the  little  details  of  his  duty. 


84 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


One  problem  agitated,  tormented  him,  and  left  him 
always  undecided ; and  this  problem  was  one  of  those  the 
solution  of  which  is  not  given  at  the  Ecole  Polytechnique. 
Jean  could  find  no  convincing  reply  to  this  question, — 
“ Which  of  the  two  sisters  is  the  prettier?” 

At  the  butts,  during  the  first  part  of  the  manoeuvre, 
each  battery  worked  on  its  own  account  under  the  orders 
of  the  captain;  but  he  often  relinquished  the  place  to  one 
of  his  lieutenants,  in  order  to  accustom  them  to  the  man- 
agement of  six  fieldpieces.  It  happened  on  this  day  that 
the  command  was  intrusted  to  the  hands  of  Jean.  To 
the  great  surprise  of  the  captain,  in  whose  estimation  his 
lieutenant  held  the  first  rank  as  a well-trained,  smart,  and 
capable  officer,  everything  went  wrong.  The  captain  was 
obliged  to  interfere;  he  addressed  a little  reprimand  to 
Jean,  which  terminated  in  these  words, — 

“ I cannot  understand  it  at  all.  What  is  the  matter 
with  you  this  morning?  It  is  the  first  time  such  a thing 
has  happened  with  you.” 

It  was  also  the  first  time  that  Jean  had  seen  anything 
at  the  butts  at  Souvigny  but  cannon,  ammunition-wagons, 
horses,  or  gunners. 

In  the  clouds  of  dust  raised  by  the  wheels  of  the  wagons 
and  the  hoofs  of  the  horses,  Jean  beheld,  not  the  second 
mounted  battery  of  the  ninth  regiment  of  artillery,  but 
the  distinct  images  of  two  Americans  with  black  eyes  and 
golden  hair;  and  at  the  moment  when  he  listened  re- 
spectfully to  the  well-merited  lecture  from  his  captain, 
he  was  in  the  act  of  saying  to  himself,  — 


The  Abbe  Constantin. 


85 


“ The  prettier  is  Mrs.  Scott ! ” 

Every  morning  the  exercise  is  divided  into  two  parts 
by  a little  interval  of  ten  minutes.  The  officers  gathered 
together  and  talked;  Jean  remained  apart,  alone  with  his 
recollections  of  the  previous  evening.  His  thoughts  obsti- 
nately gathered  round  the  vicarage  of  Longueval. 

“Yes!  the  more  charming  of  the  two  sisters  was  Mrs. 
Scott;  Miss  Percival  was  only  a child.” 

He  saw  again  Mrs.  Scott  at  the  Cure’s  little  table.  He 
heard  her  story  told  with  such  frankness,  such  freedom. 
The  harmony  of  that  very  peculiar,  very  fascinating  voice 
still  enchanted  his  ear.  He  was  again  in  the  church ; she 
was  there  before  him,  bending  over  her  prie-Dieu , her 
pretty  head  resting  in  her  two  little  hands.  Then  the  music 
arose,  and  far  off  in  the  dusk  Jean  perceived  the  fine  and 
delicate  profile  of  Bettina. 

“ A child ; was  she  only  a child  ? ” 

The  trumpets  sounded,  the  practice  recommenced;  this 
time,  fortunately,  no  command,  no  responsibility.  The 
four  batteries  executed  their  evolutions  together;  this 
immense  mass  of  men,  horses,  and  carriages,  deployed  in 
every  direction,  now  drawn  out  in  a long  line,  again  col- 
lected into  a compact  group.  All  stopped  at  the  same  in- 
stant along  the  whole  extent  of  the  ground ; the  gunners 
sprang  from  their  horses,  ran  to  their  pieces,  detached  each 
from  its  team,  which  went  off  at  a trot,  and  prepared 
to  fire  with  amazing  rapidity.  Then  the  horses  returned, 
the  men  reattached  their  pieces,  sprang  quickly  to  saddle, 
and  the  regiment  started  at  full  gallop  across  the  field. 


86 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


Very  gently  in  the  thoughts  of  Jean,  Bettina  regained 
her  advantage  over  Mrs.  Scott.  She  appeared  to  him 
smiling  and  blushing  amid  the  sunlit  clouds  of  her  float- 
ing hair.  M.  Jean,  she  had  called  him,  M.  Jean;  and  never 
had  his  name  sounded  so  sweet.  And  that  last  pressure 
of  the  hand  on  taking  leave,  before  entering  the  carriage ; 
had  not  Miss  Percival  given  him  a more  cordial  clasp 
than  Mrs.  Scott  had  done?  Yes,  positively  a little  more. 

“ I was  mistaken,”  thought  Jean;  “the  prettier  is  Miss 
Percival.” 

The  day’s  work  was  finished;  the  pieces  were  ranged 
regularly  in  line  one  behind  the  other.  They  defiled 
rapidly,  with  a horrible  clatter,  and  in  a cloud  of  dust. 
When  Jean,  sword  in  hand,  passed  before  his  colonel,  the 
images  of  the  two  sisters  were  so  confused  and  inter- 
mingled in  his  recollection  that  they  melted  the  one  in 
the  other,  and  became  in  some  measure  the  image  of  one 
and  the  same  person.  Any  parallel  became  impossible 
between  them,  thanks  to  this  singular  confusion  of  the 
two  points  of  comparison.  Mrs.  Scott  and  Miss  Percival 
remained  thus  inseparable  in  the  thoughts  of  Jean  until 
the  day  when  it  was  granted  to  him  to  see  them  again. 
The  impression  of  that  meeting  was  not  effaced ; it  was 
always  there,  persistent,  and  very  sweet,  till  Jean  began 
to  feel  disturbed. 

“ Is  it  possible,”  — so  ran  his  meditations,  — “ is  it  possi- 
ble that  I have  been  guilty  of  the  folly  of  falling  in  love 
madly  at  first  sight?  No;  one  might  fall  in  love  with  a 
woman,  but  not  with  two  women  at  once,” 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


87 


That  thought  reassured  him.  He  was  very  young,  this 
great  fellow  of  four-and-twenty ; never  had  love  entered 
fully  into  his  heart.  Love ! He  knew  very  little  about 
it,  except  from  books,  and  he  had  read  but  few  of  them. 
But  he  was  no  angel ; he  could  find  plenty  of  attractions  in 
the  grisettes  of  Souvigny.  And  when  they  would  allow 
him  to  tell  them  that  they  were  charming,  he  was  quite 
ready  to  do  so ; but  it  had  never  entered  his  head  to  re- 
gard as  love  those  passing  fancies,  which  only  caused  the 
slightest  and  most  superficial  disturbance  in  his  heart. 

Paul  de  Lavardens  had  marvellous  powers  of  enthu- 
siasm and  idealization.  His  heart  sheltered  always  two 
or  three  grandes  passions , which  lived  there  in  perfect 
harmony.  Paul  had  been  so  clever  as  to  discover  in  this 
little  town  of  fifteen  thousand  souls  numbers  of  pretty 
girls,  all  made  to  be  adored.  He  always  believed  himself 
the  discoverer  of  America,  when,  in  fact,  he  had  done 
nothing  but  follow  in  the  track  of  other  navigators. 

The  world  — Jean  had  scarcely  encountered  it.  He  had 
allowed  himself  to  be  dragged  by  Paul  a dozen  times, 
perhaps,  to  soirees  or  balls  at  the  great  houses  of  the 
neighborhood.  He  had  invariably  returned  thoroughly 
bored,  and  had  concluded  that  these  pleasures  were  not 
made  for  him.  His  tastes  were  simple,  serious.  He  loved 
solitude,  work,  long  walks,  open  space,  horses,  and  books. 
He  was  rather  savage,  — a son  of  the  soil.  He  loved  his 
village,  and  all  the  old  friends  of  his  childhood.  A qua- 
drille in  a drawing-room  caused  him  unspeakable  terror; 
but  every  year,  at  the  festival  of  the  patron  saint  of  Lon- 


88 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


gueval,  he  danced  gayly  with  the  young  girls  and  farmers’ 
daughters  of  the  neighborhood. 

If  he  had  seen  Mrs.  Scott  and  Miss  Percival  at  home  in 
Paris  in  all  the  splendor  of  their  luxury,  in  all  the  perfec- 
tion of  their  costly  surroundings,  he  would  have  looked  at 
them  from  afar,  with  curiosity,  as  exquisite  works  of  art. 
Then  he  would  have  returned  home,  and  would  have  slept, 
as  usual,  the  most  peaceful  slumber  in  the  world. 

Yes,  but  it  was  not  thus  that  the  thing  had  come  to 
pass,  and  hence  his  excitement,  hence  his  disturbance. 
These  two  women  had  shown  themselves  before  him  in 
the  midst  of  a circle  with  which  he  was  familiar,  and 
which  had  been,  if  only  for  this  reason,  singularly  favor- 
able to  them.  Simple,  good,  frank,  cordial,  such  they 
had  shown  themselves  the  very  first  day,  and  delightfully 
pretty  into  the  bargain,  — a fact  which  is  never  insignifi- 
cant. Jean  fell  at  once  under  the  charm;  he  was  there 
still ! 

At  the  moment  when  he  dismounted  in  the  barrack- 
yard,  at  nine  o’clock,  the  old  priest  began  his  campaign 
joyously.  Since  the  previous  evening  the  Abbe’s  head 
had  been  on  fire.  Jean  had  not  slept  much;  but  he  had 
not  slept  at  all.  He  had  risen  very  early,  and  with 
closed  doors,  alone  with  Pauline,  he  had  counted  and  re- 
counted his  money,  spreading  on  the  table  his  hundred 
louis  cTor>  gloating  over  them  like  a miser,  and  like  a 
miser  finding  exquisite  pleasure  in  handling  his  hoard. 
All  that  was  his ! for  him ! — that  is  to  say,  for  the 
poor. 


The  Abbe  Constantin. 


89 


“ Do  not  be  too  lavish,  Monsieur  le  Cure,”  said  Paul- 
ine; “ be  economical.  I think  that  if  you  distribute  to- 
day a hundred  francs  — ” 

“That  is  not  enough,  Pauline.  I shall  only  have  one 
such  day  in  my  life,  but  one  I will  have.  How  much  do 
you  think  I shall  give  to-day?” 

“How  much,  Monsieur  le  Cure?” 

“ A thousand  francs.  ” 

“A  thousand  francs!” 

“Yes.  We  are  millionnaires  now.  We  possess  all  the 
treasures  of  America;  and  you  talk  about  economy?  Not 
to-day,  at  all  events ; indeed,  I have  no  right  to  think  of 
it.” 

After  saying  mass,  at  nine  o’clock  he  set  out,  and 
showered  gold  along  his  way.  All  had  a share,  — the 
poor  who  acknowledged  their  poverty  and  those  who 
concealed  it.  Each  alms  was  accompanied  by  the  same 
little  discourse,  — 

“This  comes  from  the  new  owners  of  Longueval,  — two 
American  ladies,  Mrs.  Scott  and  Miss  Percival.  Remem- 
ber their  names,  and  pray  for  them.” 

Then  he  made  off  without  waiting  for  thanks,  across 
the  fields,  through  the  woods,  from  hamlet  to  hamlet, 
from  cottage  to  cottage,  — on,  on,  on.  A sort  of  intox- 
ication mounted  to  his  brain.  Everywhere  were  cries  of 
joy  and  astonishment.  All  these  louis  d' or  fell,  as  if 
by  a miracle,  into  the  poor  hands  accustomed  to  receive 
little  pieces  of  silver.  The  Cure  was  guilty  of  follies, 
actual  follies.  He  was  out  of  bounds ; he  did  not  recog- 


90 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


nize  himself.  He  had  lost  all  control  over  himself;  he 
even  gave  to  those  who  did  not  expect  anything. 

He  met  Claude  Rigal,  the  old  sergeant,  who  had  left 
one  of  his  arms  at  Sebastopol.  He  was  growing  gray, — 
nay,  white,  for  time  passes,  and  the  soldiers  of  the  Cri- 
mea will  soon  be  old  men. 

“ Here ! ” said  the  Cure,  “ I have  twenty  francs  for 
you.” 

“Twenty  francs!  But  I never  asked  for  anything;  I 
don’t  want  anything.  I have  my  pension.” 

His  pension!  Seven  hundred  francs! 

“But  listen;  it  will  be  something  to  buy  you  cigars. 
It  comes  from  America.” 

And  then  followed  the  Abbe’s  little  speech  about  the 
owners  of  Longueval. 

He  went  to  a poor  woman,  whose  son  had  gone  to 
Tunis. 

“Well,  how  is  your  son  getting  on?” 

“Not  so  bad,  Monsieur  le  Cure;  I had  a letter  from 
him  yesterday.  He  does  not  complain,  he  is  very  well, 
only  he  says  there  are  no  Kroomirs.  Poor  boy!  I have 
been  saving  for  a month,  and  I think  I shall  soon  be 
able  to  send  him  ten  francs.  ” 

“You  shall  send  him  thirty.  Take  this.” 

“ Twenty  francs ! Monsieur  le  Cure,  you  give  me 
twenty  francs?” 

“Yes,  that  is  for  you.” 

“ For  my  boy?  ” 

“For  your  boy.  But  listen;  you  must  know  from 


The  Abbe  Constantin. 


93 


whom  it  comes,  and  you  must  take  care  to  tell  your  son 
when  you  write  to  him.” 

Again  the  little  speech  about  the  new  owners  of 
Longueval,  and  again  the  adjuration  to  remember  them 
in  their  prayers.  At  six  o’clock  he  returned  home,  ex- 
hausted with  fatigue,  but  with  his  soul  filled  with  joy. 

“ I have  given  away  all,”  he  cried,  as  soon  as  he  saw 
Pauline;  “all!  all!  all!” 

He  dined,  and  then  went  in  the  evening  to  perform  the 
usual  service  for  the  month  of  Mary.  But  this  time  the 
harmonium  was  silent;  Miss  Percival  was  no  longer  there. 

The  little  organist  of  the  evening  before  was  at  that  mo- 
ment much  perplexed.  On  two  couches  in  her  dressing- 

* 

room  were  spread  two  dresses,  — a white  and  a blue.  Bettina 
was  meditating  which  of  these  two  dresses  she  would  wear  to 
go  to  the  Opera  that  evening.  After  long  hesitation  she  fixed 
on  the  blue.  At  half-past  nine  the  two  sisters  ascended  the 
grand  staircase  at  the  Opera  House.  Just  as  they  entered 
their  box  the  curtain  rose  on  the  second  scene  of  the  second 
act  of  “ Ai’da,”  — that  containing  the  ballet  and  march. 

Two  young  men,  Roger  de  Puymartin  and  Louis  de 
Martillet,  were  seated  in  the  front  of  a stage-box.  The 
young  ladies  of  the  corps  de  ballet  had  not  yet  appeared, 
and  these  gentlemen,  having  no  occupation,  were  amusing 
themselves  with  looking  about  the  house.  The  appear- 
ance of  Miss  Percival  made  a strong  impression  upon 
both. 

“ Ah ! ah ! ” said  Puymartin,  “ there  she  is,  the  little 
golden  nugget ! ” 


94 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


“ She  is  perfectly  dazzling  this  evening,  this  little  golden 
nugget,”  continued  Martillet.  “ Look  at  her,  at  the  line  of 
her  neck,  the  fall  of  her  shoulders,  — still  a young  girl,  and 
already  a woman.” 

“ Yes,  she  is  charming,  and  tolerably  well  off  into  the 
bargain.” 

“ Fifteen  millions  of  her  own,  and  the  silver  mine  is  stil! 
productive.” 

“ Berulle  told  me  twenty-five  millions,  and  he  is  very  well 
up  in  American  affairs.” 

“ Twenty-five  millions  ! A pretty  haul  for  Romanelli ! ” 

“ What?  Romanelli ! ” 

“ Report  says  that  that  will  be  a match ; that  it  is  already 
settled.” 

“ A match  may  be  arranged,  but  with  Montessan,  not 
with  Romanelli.  Ah,  at  last!  Here  is  the  ballet.” 

They  ceased  to  talk.  The  ballet  in  “ A'fda  ” only  lasts  five 
minutes,  and  for  those  five  minutes  they  had  come.  Con- 
sequently they  must  be  enjoyed  respectfully,  religiously,  for 
there  is  that  peculiarity  among  a number  of  the  habitues  of 
the  Opera  that  they  chatter  like  magpies  when  they  ought  to 
be  silent  to  listen,  and  that  they  observe  the  most  absolute 
silence  when  they  might  be  allowed  to  speak  while  looking  on. 

The  trumpets  of  “ Aida  ” had  given  their  last  heroic 
fanfare  in  honor  of  Radames  before  the  great  sphinxes 
under  the  green  foliage  of  the  palm-trees;  the  dancers 
advanced,  the  light  trembling  on  their  spangled  robes,  and 
took  possession  of  the  stage. 

With  much  attention  and  pleasure  Mrs.  Scott  followed 


HBRAJfi 
Of  THE 

UMVSfBITV  Of  uir  # 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


97 


the  evolutions  of  the  ballet,  but  Bettina  had  suddenly 
become  thoughtful,  on  perceiving  in  a box  on  the  other 
side  of  the  house  a tall  dark  young  man.  Miss  Percival 
talked  to  herself,  and  said,  — 

“What  shall  I do?  What  shall  I decide  on?  Must  I 
marry  him,  that  handsome,  tall  fellow  over  there,  who  is 
watching  me,  for  it  is  me  that  he  is  looking  at?  He  will 
come  into  our  box  directly  this  act  is  over,  and  then 
I have  only  to  say,  ‘ I have  decided.  There  is  my  hand;  I 
will  be  your  wife/  and  then  all  would  be  settled  ! I should 
be  Princess  ! Princess  Romanelli ! Princess  Bettina  ! Bettina 
Romanelli ! The  names  go  well  together;  they  sound  very 
pretty.  Would  it  amuse  me  to  be  a princess?  Yes,  and 
no!  Among  all  the  young  men  in  Paris  who  during  the 
last  year  have  run  after  my  money,  this  Prince  Romanelli  is 
the  one  who  pleases  me  best.  One  of  these  days  I must 
make  up  my  mind  to  marry.  I think  he  loves  me.  Yes; 
but  the  question  is,  do  I love  him?  No,  I don’t  think  I do, 
and  I should  so  much  like  to  love  — so  much,  so  much  ! ” 

At  the  precise  moment  when  these  reflections  were 
passing  through  Bettina’s  pretty  head,  Jean,  alone  in  his 
study,  seated  before  his  desk  with  a great  book  under  the 
shade  of  his  lamp,  looked  through,  and  took  notes  of,  the 
campaigns  of  Turenne.  He  had  been  directed  to  give  a 
course  of  instruction  to  the  non-commissioned  officers  of 
the  regiment,  and  was  prudently  preparing  his  lesson  for 
the  next  day. 

But  in  the  midst  of  his  notes  — Nordlingen,  1645;  les 
Dunes,  1658;  Mulhausen  and  Turckheim,  1674-75  — he 

_ J 


98 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


suddenly  perceived  (Jean  did  not  draw  very  badly)  a sketch, 
a woman’s  portrait,  which  all  at  once  appeared  under  his 
pen.  What  was  she  doing  there  in  the  middle  of  Turenne’s 
victories,  this  pretty  little  woman?  And  then  who  was  she, 
— Mrs.  Scott  or  Miss  Percival?  How  could  he  tell?  They 
resembled  each  other  so  much;  and  laboriously  Jean  re- 
turned to  the  history  of  the  campaigns  of  Turenne. 

And  at  the  same  moment,  the  Abbe  Constantin,  on  his 
knees  before  his  little  wooden  bedstead,  called  down  with  all 
the  strength  of  his  soul  the  blessings  of  Heaven  on  the  two 
women  through  whose  bounty  he  had  passed  such  a sweet 
and  happy  day.  He  prayed  God  to  bless  Mrs.  Scott  in  her 
children,  and  to  give  to  Miss  Percival  a husband  after  her 
own  heart. 


CHAPTER  V. 


ORMERLY  Paris  belonged  to  the  Parisians,  and  that 


at  no  very  remote  period,  — thirty  or  forty  years 
ago.  At  that  epoch  the  French  were  the  masters  of 
Paris,  as  the  English  are  the  masters  of  London,  the  Span- 
iards of  Madrid,  and  the  Russians  of  St.  Petersburg. 
Those  times  are  no  more.  Other  countries  still  have 
their  frontiers;  there  are  now  none  to  France.  Paris  has 
become  an  immense  Babel,  a universal  and  international 
city.  Foreigners  do  not  only  come  to  visit  Paris;  they 
come  there  to  live.  At  the  present  day  we  have  in  Paris 
a Russian  colony,  a Spanish  colony,  a Levantine  colony, 


IOO 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


an  American  colony.  The  foreigners  have  already  con- 
quered from  us  the  greater  part  of  the  Champs-Elysees  and 
the  Boulevard  Malesherbes.  They  advance;  they  extend 
their  outworks ; we  retreat,  pressed  back  by  the  invaders ; 
we  are  obliged  to  expatriate  ourselves.  We  have  begun 
to  found  Parisian  colonies  in  the  plains  of  Passy,  in  the 
plain  of  Monceau,  in  quarters  which  formerly  were  not 
Paris  at  all,  and  which  are  not  quite  even  now.  Among 
the  foreign  colonies,  the  richest,  the  most  populous,  the 
most  brilliant  is  the  American  colony.  There  is  a moment 
when  an  American  feels  himself  rich  enough,  a Frenchman 
never.  The  American  then  stops,  draws  breath,  and  while 
still  husbanding  the  capital,  no  longer  spares  the  income. 
He  knows  how  to  spend;  the  Frenchman  knows  only  how 
to  save. 

The  Frenchman  has  only  one  real  luxury,  — his  revolu- 
tions. Prudently  and  wisely  he  reserves  himself  for  them, 
knowing  well  that  they  will  cost  France  dear,  but  that  at 
the  same  time  they  will  furnish  the  opportunity  for  advan- 
tageous investments.  The  Frenchman  says  to  himself,  — 

“ Fet  us  hoard  ! let  us  hoard  ! let  us  hoard  ! Some  of 
these  mornings  there  will  be  a revolution,  which  will  make 
the  five  per  cents  fall  fifty  or  sixty  francs.  I will  buy  then. 
Since  revolutions  are  inevitable,  let  us  try  at  least  to  make 
them  profitable.” 

They  are  always  talking  about  the  people  who  are 
ruined  by  revolutions;  but  perhaps  the  number  of  those 
enriched  by  revolutions  is  still  greater. 

The  Americans  experience  the  attraction  of  Paris  very 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


IOI 


strongly.  There  is  no  town  in  the  world  where  it  is  easier 
or  more  agreeable  to  spend  a great  deal  of  money.  For 
many  reasons,  both  of  race  and  origin,  this  attraction 
exercised  over  Mrs.  Scott  and  Miss  Percival  a very  re- 
markable power. 

The  most  French  of  our  colonies  is  Canada,  which  is 
no  longer  ours.  The  recollection  of  their  first  home  has 
been  preserved  faithfully  and  tenderly  in  the  hearts  of  the 
emigrants  to  Montreal  and  Quebec.  Suzie  Percival  had 
received  from  her  mother  an  entirely  French  education, 
and  she  had  brought  up  her  sister  in  the  same  love  of  our 
country.  The  two  sisters  felt  themselves  Frenchwomen, 
still  better,  Parisians.  As  soon  as  the  avalanche  of  dollars 
had  descended  upon  them,  the  same  desire  seized  them 
both,  — to  come  and  live  in  Paris.  They  demanded  France 
as  if  it  had  been  their  fatherland.  Mr.  Scott  made  some 
opposition. 

“ If  I go  away  from  here,”  he  said,  “ your  incomes  will 
suffer.” 

“What  does  that  matter?”  replied  Suzie.  “We  are 
rich,  — too  rich.  Do  let  us  go.  We  shall  be  so  happy, 
so  delighted  ! ” 

Mr.  Scott  allowed  himself  to  be  persuaded ; and  at  the 
beginning  of  January,  1880,  Suzie  wrote  the  following  letter 
to  her  friend,  Katie  Norton,  who  had  lived  in  Paris  for 
some  years : — 

“ Victory ! It  is  decided  ! Richard  has  consented.  I shall 
arrive  in  April,  and  become  a Frenchwoman  again.  You  offered 
to  undertake  all  the  preparations  for  our  settlement  in  Paris.  I am 


102 


The  Abbe  Constantin. 


horribly  presuming,  — I accept  ! When  I arrive  in  Paris,  I should 
like  to  be  able  to  enjoy  Paris,  and  not  be  obliged  to  lose  my  first 
month  in  running  after  upholsterers,  coach-builders,  horse-dealers. 
I should  like,  on  arriving  at  the  railway  station,  to  find  awaiting  me 
my  carriage,  ?ny  coachman,  my  horses.  That  very  day  I should 
like  you  to  dine  with  me  at  my  home.  Hire  or  buy  a mansion, 
engage  the  servants,  choose  the  horses,  the  carriages,  the  liveries. 
I depend  entirely  upon  you.  As  long  as  the  liveries  are  blue,  that 
is  the  only  point.  This  line  is  added  at  the  request  of  Bettina. 

“ We  shall  only  bring  seven  persons  with  us.  Richard  will  have 
his  valet,  Bettina  and  I two  ladies’  maids ; then  there  are  the  two 
governesses  for  the  children,  and  besides  these,  two  boys,  Toby 
and  Bobby,  who  ride  to  perfection.  We  should  never  find  in  Paris 
such  a perfect  pair. 

“ Everything  else,  people  and  things,  we  shall  leave  in  New  York. 
No,  not  quite  everything;  I had  forgotten  four  little  ponies,  four 
little  gems,  black  as  ink.  We  have  not  the  heart  to  leave  them. 
We  shall  drive  them  in  a phaeton  ; it  is  delightful.  Both  Bettina 
and  I drive  four-in-hand  very  well.  Ladies  can  drive  four-in-hand 
in  the  ‘ Bois  ’ very  early  in  the  morning,  can’t  they?  Here  it  is 
quite  possible. 

“ Above  all,  my  dear  Katie,  do  not  consider  money.  Be  as  ex- 
travagant as  you  like,  that  is  all  I ask.” 

The  same  day  that  Mrs.  Norton  received  this  letter 
witnessed  the  failure  of  a certain  Garneville.  He  was  a 
great  speculator  who  had  been  on  a false  scent.  Stocks 
had  fallen  just  when  he  had  expected  a rise.  This  Garne- 
ville had,  six  weeks  before,  installed  himself  in  a brand- 
new  house,  which  had  no  other  fault  than  a too  startling 
magnificence. 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


103 


Mrs.  Norton  signed  an  agreement,  — one  hundred  thou- 
sand francs  a year,  with  the  option  of  buying  house  and 
furniture  for  two  millions  during  the  first  year  of  possession. 
A famous  upholsterer  undertook  to  correct  and  subdue  the 
exaggerated  splendor  of  a loud  and  gorgeous  luxury. 

That  done,  Mrs.  Scott’s  friend  had  the  good  fortune  to 
lay  her  hand  on  two  of  those  eminent  artists  without  whom 
the  routine  of  a great  house  can  neither  be  established  nor 
carried  on.  The  first  wTas  a chef  of  the  first  rank,  who  had 
just  left  an  ancient  mansion  of  the  Faubourg  Saint-Germain, 
to  his  great  regret,  for  he  had  aristocratic  inclinations. 

“ Never,”  said  he  to  Mrs.  Norton,  “ never  would  I have 
left  the  service  of  Madame  la  Duchesse  if  she  had  kept  up 
her  establishment  on  the  same  footing  as  formerly;  but 
Madame  la  Duchesse  has  four  children,  — two  sons  who 
have  run  through  a good  deal,  and  two  daughters  who 
will  soon  be  of  an  age  to  marry;  they  must  have  their 
dowries.  Therefore,  Madame  la  Duchesse  is  obliged  to 
draw  in  a little,  and  the  house  is  no  longer  important 
enough  for  me.” 

This  distinguished  character  of  course  made  his  con- 
ditions. Though  excessive,  they  did  not  alarm  Mrs.  Nor- 
ton, who  knew  that  he  was  a man  of  the  most  serious 
merit;  but  he,  before  deciding,  asked  permission  to  tele- 
graph to  New  York.  He  wished  to  make  certain  inquiries. 
The  reply  was  favorable;  he  accepted. 

The  second  great  artist  was  a stud-groom  of  the  rarest 
and  highest  capacity,  who  was  just  about  to  retire  after 
having  made  his  fortune.  He  consented,  however,  to  or 


104 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


ganize  the  stables  for  Mrs.  Scott.  It  was  thoroughly  un- 
derstood that  he  should  have  every  liberty  in  purchasing 
the  horses ; that  he  should  wear  no  livery ; that  he  should 
choose  the  coachmen,  the  grooms,  and  every  one  con- 
nected with  the  stables ; that  he  should  never  have  less 
than  fifteen  horses  in  the  stables ; that  no  bargain  should 
be  made  with  the  coach-builder  or  saddler  without  his  in- 
tervention; and  that  he  should  never  mount  the  box,  except 
early  in  the  morning,  in  plain  clothes,  to  give  lessons  in 
driving  to  the  ladies  and  children  if  necessary. 

The  cook  took  possession  of  his  stores,  and  the  stud- 
groom  of  his  stables.  Everything  else  was  only  a question 
of  money,  and  with  regard  to  this  Mrs.  Norton  made  full 
use  of  her  extensive  powers.  She  acted  in  conformity  with 
the  instructions  she  had  received.  In  the  short  space  of 
two  months  she  performed  prodigies,  and  that  is  how,  when 
on  the  15th  of  April,  1880,  Mr.  Scott,  Suzie,  and  Bettina 
alighted  from  the  mail  train  from  Havre,  at  half-past  four  in 
the  afternoon,  they  found  Mrs.  Norton  at  the  station  of 
Saint-Lazare,  who  said,  — 

“ Your  calhhe  is  there  in  the  yard;  behind  it  is  a landau 
for  the  children ; and  behind  the  landau  is  an  omnibus  for 
the  servants.  The  three  carriages  bear  your  monogram, 
are  driven  by  your  coachmen,  and  drawn  by  your  horses. 
Your  address  is  24,  Rue  Murillo,  and  here  is  the  menu  of 
your  dinner  to-night.  You  invited  me  two  months  ago;  I 
accept,  and  will  even  take  the  liberty  of  bringing  a dozen 
friends  with  me.  I shall  furnish  everything,  even  the  guests. 
But  do  not  be  alarmed;  you  know  them  all.  They  are 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


105 


mutual  friends;  and  this  evening  we  shall  be  able  to  judge 
of  the  merits  of  your  cook.” 

The  first  Parisian  who  had  the  honor  and  pleasure  of  pay- 
ing homage  to  the  beauty  of  Mrs.  Scott  and  Miss  Percival 
was  a little  marmiton  of  fifteen  years  old,  who  stood  there  in 
his  white  clothes,  his  wicker  basket  on  his  head,  at  the 
moment  when  Mrs.  Scott’s  carriage,  entangled  in  the 
multitude  of  vehicles,  slowly  worked  its  way  out  of  the 
station.  The  little  cook  stopped  short  on  the  pavement, 
opened  wide  his  eyes,  looked  at  the  two  sisters  with 
amazement,  and  boldly  cast  full  in  their  faces  the  single 
word,  — 

“ Mazette!  ” 

When  Madame  Recamier  saw  her  first  wrinkles  and  first 
gray  hairs,  she  said  to  a friend,  — 

“ Ah,  my  dear,  there  are  no  more  illusions  left  for  me ! 
From  the  day  when  I saw  that  the  little  chimney-sweeps  no 
longer  turned  round  in  the  street  to  look  at  me  I under- 
stood that  all  was  over.” 

The  opinion  of  the  confectioners’  boys  is  in  similar  cases 
of  equal  value  with  the  opinion  of  the  little  chimney-sweeps. 
All  was  not  over  for  Suzie  and  Bettina;  on  the  contrary,  all 
was  only  beginning. 

Five  minutes  later,  Mrs.  Scott’s  carriage  was  ascending 
the  Boulevard  Haussmann  to  the  slow  and  measured  trot  of 
a pair  of  admirable  horses.  Paris  counted  two  Parisians 
the  more. 

The  success  of  Mrs.  Scott  and  Miss  Percival  was  im- 
mediate, decisive,  like  a flash  of  lightning.  The  beauties  of 


io6 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


Paris  are  not  classed  and  catalogued  like  the  beauties  of 
London ; they  do  not  publish  their  portraits  in  the  illus- 
trated papers,  or  allow  their  photographs  to  be  sold  at  the 
stationers’.  However,  there  is  always  a little  staff,  consisting 
of  a score  of  women,  who  represent  the  grace  and  charm 
and  beauty  of  Paris,  which  women,  after  ten  or  twelve  years’ 
service,  pass  into  the  reserve,  just  like  the  old  generals. 
Suzie  and  Bettina  immediately  became  part  of  this  little 
staff.  It  was  an  affair  of  four-and-twenty  hours,  — of  less 
than  four-and-twenty  hours,  for  all  passed  between  eight  in 
the  morning  and  midnight,  the  day  after  their  arrival  in 
Paris. 

Imagine  a sort  of  little  feerie , in  three  acts,  of  which  the 
success  increases  from  tableau  to  tableau. 

ist.  A ride  at  ten  in  the  morning  in  the  Bois,  with  the 
two  marvellous  grooms  imported  from  America. 

2d.  A walk  at  six  o’clock  in  the  Allee  des  Acacias. 

3d.  An  appearance  at  the  Opera  at  ten  in  the  evening 
in  Mrs.  Norton’s  box. 

The  two  novelties  were  immediately  remarked,  and  ap- 
preciated as  they  deserved  to  be,  by  the  thirty  or  forty 
persons  who  constitute  a sort  of  mysterious  tribunal,  and 
who,  in  the  name  of  all  Paris,  pass  sentences  beyond  ap- 
peal. These  thirty  or  forty  persons  have  from  time  to 
time  the  fancy  to  declare  “ delicious  ” some  woman  who 
is  manifestly  ugly.  That  is  enough;  she  is  “ delicious  ” 
from  that  moment. 

The  beauty  of  the  two  sisters  was  unquestionable.  In 
the  morning  it  was  their  grace,  their  elegance,  their  distinc- 


The  Abbe  Constantin. 


107 


tion  that  attracted  universal  admiration;  in  the  afternoon 
it  was  declared  that  their  walk  had  the  freedom  and  ease  of 
two  young  goddesses;  in  the  evening  there  was  but  one  cry 
of  rapture  at  the  ideal  perfection  of  their  shoulders.  From 
that  moment  all  Paris  had  for  the  two  sisters  the  eyes  of  the 
little  pastry-cook  of  the  Rue  d’Amsterdam ; all  Paris  re- 
peated his  “ Mazette though  naturally  with  the  varia- 
tions and  developments  imposed  by  the  usages  of  the 
world. 

Mrs.  Scott’s  drawing-room  immediately  became  the 
fashion.  The  habitues  of  three  or  four  great  American 
houses  transferred  themselves  in  a body  to  the  Scotts,  who 
had  three  hundred  persons  at  their  first  Wednesday.  Their 
circle  rapidly  increased ; there  was  a little  of  everything  to 
be  found  in  their  set, — Americans,  Spaniards,  Italians, 
H ungarians,  Russians,  and  even  Parisians. 

When  she  had  related  her  history  to  the  Abbe  Con- 
stantin, Mrs.  Scott  had  not  told  all;  one  never  does  tell  all. 
In  a word,  she  was  a coquette.  Mr.  Scott  had  the  most 
perfect  confidence  in  his  wife,  and  left  her  entire  liberty. 
He  showed  himself  very  little;  he  was  an  honorable  man, 
who  felt  a vague  embarrassment  at  having  made  such  a mar- 
riage, at  having  married  so  much  money.  Having  a taste 
for  business,  he  had  great  pleasure  in  devoting  himself 
entirely  to  the  administering  of  the  two  immense  fortunes 
which  were  in  his  hands,  in  continually  increasing  them, 
and  in  saying  every  year  to  his  wife  and  sister-in-law,  — 

“You  are  still  richer  than  you  were  last  year.” 

Not  content  with  watching  with  much  prudence  and 


io8 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


ability  over  the  interests  which  he  had  left  in  America,  he 
launched  in  France  into  large  speculations,  and  was  as 
successful  in  Paris  as  he  had  been  in  New  York.  In  order 
to  make  money,  the  first  thing  is  to  have  no  need  of  it. 

They  made  love  to  Mrs.  Scott  to  an  enormous  extent. 
They  made  love  to  her  in  French,  in  Italian,  in  English,  in 
Spanish,  for  she  knew  those  four  languages,  and  there  is 
one  advantage  that  foreigners  have  over  our  poor  Parisians, 
who  generally  know  only  their  mother  tongue,  and  have  not 
the  resource  of  international  passions. 

Naturally  Mrs.  Scott  did  not  chase  her  adorers  from  her 
presence.  She  had  ten,  twenty,  thirty  at  a time.  No 
one  could  boast  of  any  preference ; to  all  she  opposed 
the  same  amiable,  laughing,  joyous  resistance.  It  was 
clear  to  all  that  the  game  amused  her,  and  that  she 
did  not  for  a moment  take  it  seriously.  Mr.  Scott  never 
felt  a moment’s  anxiety,  and  he  was  perfectly  right.  More, 
he  enjoyed  his  wife’s  successes;  he  was  happy  in  seeing  her 
happy.  He  loved  her  dearly,  a little  more  than  she  loved 
him.  She  loved  him  very  much  and  that  was  all.  There 
is  a great  difference  between  “dearly”  and  “ very  much  ” 
when  these  two  adverbs  are  placed  after  the  verb  “ to  love.” 

As  to  Bettina,  around  her  was  a maddening  whirl,  an 
orgy  of  adulation!  Such  fortune!  such  beauty!  Miss 
Percival  arrived  in  Paris  on  the  15th  of  April;  a fortnight 
had  not  passed  before  the  offers  of  marriage  began  to  pour 
upon  her.  In  the  course  of  that  first  year  she  might,  had 
she  wished  it,  have  been  married  thirty-four  times,  and  to 
what  a variety  of  suitors  ! 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


109 


They  asked  her  hand  for  a young  exile,  who  under  cer- 
tain circumstances  might  be  called  to  ascend  a throne,  — a 
very  small  one,  it  is  true,  but  a throne  nevertheless. 

They  asked  her  hand  for  a young  duke,  who  would 
make  a great  figure  at  court  when  France  — as  was  in- 
evitable — should  recognize  her  errors,  and  bow  down 
before  her  legitimate  masters. 

They  asked  her  hand  for  a young  prince,  who  would 
have  a place  on  the  steps  of  the  throne  when  France  — as 
was  inevitable  — should  again  knit  together  the  chain  of 
the  Napoleonic  traditions. 

They  asked  her  hand  for  a young  Republican  deputy, 
who  had  just  made  a most  brilliant  debut  in  the  Chamber, 
and  for  whom  the  future  reserved  the  most  splendid  destiny, 
for  the  Republic  was  now  established  in  France  on  the 
most  indestructible  basis. 

They  asked  her  hand  for  a young  Spaniard  of  the  purest 
lineage,  and  she  was  given  to  understand  that  the  contrat 
would  be  signed  in  the  palace  of  a queen  who  does  not  live 
far  from  the  Arc  de  Triomphe.  Besides,  one  can  find  her 
address  in  the  “ Almanach  Bottin,”  for  at  the  present  day 
there  are  queens  who  have  their  addresses  in  Bottin  between 
an  attorney  and  a druggist;  it  is  only  the  kings  of  France 
who  no  longer  live  in  France. 

They  asked  her  hand  for  the  son  of  a peer  of  Eng- 
land, and  for  the  son  of  a member  of  the  highest  Viennese 
aristocracy;  for  the  son  of  a Parisian  banker,  and  for  the 
son  of  a Russian  ambassador;  for  a Hungarian  count, 
and  for  an  Italian  prince ; and  also  for  various  excellent 


I 10 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


young  men  who  were  nothing  and  had  nothing,  — neither 
name  nor  fortune,  — but  Bettina  had  granted  them  a waltz, 
and  believing  themselves  irresistible,  they  hoped  that  they 
had  caused  a flutter  of  that  little  heart. 

But  up  to  the  present  moment  nothing  had  touched 
that  little  heart,  and  the  reply  had  been  the  same  to  all, 
— “ No  ! no!  ” again  “ No  ! ” always  “ No  ! ” 

Some  days  after  that  performance  of  “ Ai'da,”  the  two 
sisters  had  a rather  long  conversation  on  this  great,  this 
eternal  question  of  marriage.  A certain  name  had  been 
pronounced  by  Mrs.  Scott  which  had  provoked  on  the  part 
of  Miss  Percival  the  most  decided  and  most  energetic  re- 
fusal, and  Suzie  had  laughingly  said  to  her  sister, — 

“ But,  Bettina,  you  will  be  obliged  to  end  by  marrying.” 
“Yes,  certainly;  but  I should  be  so  sorry  to  marry 
without  love.  It  seems  to  me  that  before  I could  re- 
solve to  do  such  a thing  I must  be  in  danger  of  dying 
an  old  maid,  and  I am  not  yet  that.” 

“ No,  not  yet.” 

“ Let  us  wait,  let  us  wait.” 

“ Let  us  wait.  But  among  all  these  lovers  whom  you 
have  been  dragging  after  you  for  the  last  year,  there 
have  been  some  very  nice,  very  amiable;  and  it  is  really 
a little  strange  if  none  of  them  — ” 

“ None,  my  Suzie,  none,  absolutely  none.  Why  should 
I not  tell  you  the  truth?  Is  it  their  fault?  Have  they 
gone  unskilfully  to  work?  Could  they,  in  managing  bet- 
ter, have  found  the  way  to  my  heart,  or  is  the  fault  in 
me?  Is  it  perhaps  that  the  way  to  my  heart  is  a steep, 


U*:.vr 

univemSyofitiji, 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


113 


rocky,  inaccessible  way,  by  which  no  one  will  ever  pass? 
Am  I a horrid  little  creature,  arid,  cold,  and  condemmed 
never  to  love?” 

“ I do  not  think  so.” 

‘‘Neither  do  I;  but  up  to  the  present  time  that  is  my 
history.  No,  I have  never  felt  anything  which  resembled 
love.  You  are  laughing,  and  I can  guess  why.  You  are 
saying  to  yourself,  ‘A  little  girl  like  that  pretending  to 
know  what  love  is!’  You  are  right;  I do  not  know,  but 
I have  a pretty  good  idea.  To  love,  — is  it  not  to  prefer 
to  all  in  the  world  one  certain  person?” 

“Yes;  it  is  really  that.” 

“ Is  it  not  never  to  weary  of  seeing  that  person  or 
of  hearing  him?  Is  it  not  to  cease  to  live  when  he  is 
not  there,  and  to  immediately  begin  to  revive  when  he 
reappears?  ” 

“ Oh ! but  this  is  romantic  love.” 

“Well,  that  is  the  love  of  which  I dream,  and  that  is 
the  love  which  does  not  come,  — not  at  all  till  now;  and 
yet  that  person  preferred  by  me  to  all  and  everything 
does  exist.  Do  you  know  who  it  is?” 

“No,  I do  not  know;  I do  not  know,  but  I have  a 
little  suspicion.” 

“Yes,  it  is  you,  my  dearest;  and  it  is  perhaps  you, 
naughty  sister,  who  make  me  so  insensible  and  cruel  on 
this  point.  I love  you  too  much ; you  fill  my  heart. 
You  have  occupied  it  entirely;  there  is  no  room  for 
any  one  else.  Prefer  any  one  to  you  ! love  any  one  more 
than  you  ! That  will  never,  never  be  ! ” 


The  Abbe  Co7istantin. 


114 


“ Oh,  yes,  it  will.  ” 

“ Oh,  no!  Love  differently,  perhaps,  but  more — no. 
He  must  not  count  upon  that,  this  gentleman  whom  I 
expect,  and  who  does  not  arrive.” 

Do  not  be  afraid,  my  Betty;  there  is  room  in  your 
heart  for  all  whom  you  should  love,  — for  your  husband, 
for  your  children,  and  that  without  your  old  sister  losing 
anything.  The  heart  is  very  little,  but  it  is  also  very 
large.” 

Bettina  tenderly  embraced  her  sister;  then,  resting  her 
head  coaxingly  on  Suzie’s  shoulder,  she  said,  “If,  how- 
ever, you  are  tired  of  keeping  me  with  you,  if  you  are 
in  a hurry  to  get  rid  of  me,  do  you  know  what  I will 
do?  I will  put  the  names  of  two  of  these  gentlemen  in 
a basket,  and  draw  lots.  There  are  two  who  at  the  last 
extremity  would  not  be  absolutely  disagreeable.” 

“ Which  two?  ” 

“ Guess.” 

“ Prince  Romanelli.” 

“ For  one.  And  the  other?  ” 

“M.  de  Montessan.” 

“ Those  are  the  two  ! It  is  just  that.  Those  two  would 
be  acceptable,  but  only  acceptable,  and  that  is  not  enough.” 
This  is  why  Bettina  awaited  with  extreme  impatience  the 
day  when  they  should  leave  Paris,  and  take  up  their  abode 
in  Longueval^  She  was  a little  tired  of  so  much  pleasure, 
so  much  success,  so  many  offers  of  marriage.  The  whirl- 
pool of  Parisian  gayety  had  seized  her  on  her  arrival  and 
would  not  let  her  go,  not  far  one  hour  of  halt  or  rest. 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


“5 


She  felt  the  need  of  being  given  up  to  herself  for  a few 
days,  to  herself  alone,  to  consult  and  question  herself  at 
her  leisure,  in  the  complete  solitude  of  the  country,  — in 
a word,  to  belong  to  herself  again. 

Was  not  Bettina  all  sprightly  and  joyous  when  on  die 
14th  of  June  they  took  the  train  for  Longueval?  As 
soon  as  she  was  alone  in  a coupe  with  her  sister,  “ Ah  ! ” 
she  cried,  “ how  happy  I am ! Let  us  breathe  a little, 
quite  alone,  you  and  me,  for  a few  days.  The  Nortons 
and  Turners  do  not  come  till  the  25th,  do  they?” 

“ No,  not  till  the  25th.” 

“ We  will  pass  our  lives  riding  or  driving  in  the  woods, 
in  the  fields.  Ten  days  of  liberty ! And  during  those 
ten  days  no  more  lovers,  no  more  lovers  ! And  all  those 
lovers,  with  what  are  they  in  love,  with  me  or  my  money? 
That  is  the  mystery,  the  unfathomable  mystery.” 

The  engine  whistled ; the  train  put  itself  slowly  into 
motion.  A wild  idea  entered  Bettina’s  head.  She  leaned 
out  of  the  window  and  cried,  accompanying  her  words 
with  a little  wave  of  the  hand,  “ Good-by,  my  lovers, 
good-by ! ” 

Then  she  threw  herself  suddenly  into  a corner  of  the 
coupe  with  a hearty  burst  of  laughter. 

“ Oh,  Suzie,  Suzie  ! ” 

“ What  is  the  matter?  ” 

“ A man  with  a red  flag  in  his  hand;  he  saw  me,  and 
he  looked  so  astonished.” 

“ You  are  so  irrational ! ” 

“Yes,  it  is  true,  to  have  called  out  of  the  window  like 


The  Abbe  Constantin. 


1 16 


that,  but  not  to  be  happy  at  thinking  that  we  are  going 
to  live  alone,  en  gargons” 

“ Alone,  alone  ! Not  exactly  that.  To  begin  with,  we 
shall  have  two  people  to  dinner  to-night.” 

“ Ah  ! that  is  true ; but  those  two  people,  I shall  not  be  at 
all  sorry  to  see  them  again.  Yes,  I shall  be  very  pleased  to 
see  the  old  Cure  again,  but  especially  the  young  officer.” 

“ What ! especially?  ” 

“Certainly;  because  what  the  lawyer  from  Souvigny 
told  us  the  other  day  is  so  touching,  and  what  that  great 
artillery-man  did  when  he  was  quite  little  was  so  good,  so 
good,  that  this  evening  I shall  seek  for  an  opportunity  of 
telling  him  what  I think  of  it,  and  I shall  find  one.” 
Then  Bettina,  abruptly  changing  the  course  of  the  con- 
versation, continued,  “ Did  they  send  the  telegram  yes- 
terday to  Edwards  about  the  ponies?” 

“Yes,  yesterday  before  dinner.” 

“ Oh,  you  will  let  me  drive  them  up  to  the  house?  It 
will  be  such  fun  to  go  through  the  town,  and  to  drive  up 
at  full  speed  into  the  court  in  front  of  the  entrance.  Tell 
me,  will  you  ? ” 

“Yes,  certainly,  you  shall  drive  the  ponies.” 

“ Oh,  how  nice  of  you,  Suzie  ! ” 

Edwards  was  the  stud-groom.  He  had  arrived  at  Lon- 
gueval  three  days  before.  He  deigned  to  come  himself 
to  meet  Mrs.  Scott  and  Miss  Percival.  He  brought  the 
phaeton  drawn  by  the  four  black  ponies.  He  was  waiting 
at  the  station.  The  passage  of  the  ponies  through  the 
principal  street  of  the  town  had  made  a sensation.  The 


u mm 

Of  THE 

DIVERSITY  Of  ILUf  8 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


1 19 


population  rushed  out  of  their  houses,  and  asked  eagerly, 
“ What  is  it  ? What  can  it  be?  ” 

Some  ventured  the  opinion,  “ It  is,  perhaps,  a travelling- 
circus.” 

But  exclamations  arose  on  all  sides,  “ You  did  not  no- 
tice the  style  of  it,  — the  carriage  and  the  harness  shin- 
ing like  gold,  and  the  little  horses  with  their  white  rosettes 
on  each  side  of  the  head.” 

The  crowd  collected  around  the  station;  and  those  who 
were  curious  learned  that  they  were  going  to  witness  the  ar- 
rival of  the  new  owners  of  Longueval.  They  were  slightly 
disenchanted  when  the  two  sisters  appeared,  very  pretty, 
but  in  very  simple  travelling-costumes.  These  good  people 
had  almost  expected  the  apparition  of  two  princesses  out 
of  fairy  tales,  clad  in  silk  and  brocade,  sparkling  with  ru- 
bies and  diamonds.  But  they  opened  wide  their  eyes  when 
they  saw  Bettina  walk  slowly  round  the  four  ponies,  caress- 
ing one  after  the  other  lightly  with  her  hand,  and  examining 
all  the  details  of  the  team  with  the  air  of  a connoisseur. 

Having  made  her  inspection,  Bettina,  without  the  least 
hurry,  drew  off  her  long  Swedish  gloves,  and  replaced 
them  by  a pair  of  dog-skin  which  she  took  from  the 
pocket  of  the  carriage  apron.  Then  she  slipped  upon 
the  box  in  the  place  of  Edwards,  receiving  from  him  the 
reins  and  whip  with  extreme  dexterity,  without  allowing 
the  already  excited  horses  to  perceive  that  they  had 
changed  hands. 

Mrs.  Scott  seated  herself  beside  her  sister.  The  ponies 
pranced,  curvetted,  and  threatened  to  rear. 


I 20 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


“ Be  very  careful,  miss,”  said  Edwards;  “ the  ponies 
are  very  fresh  to-day.” 

“ Do  not  be  afraid,”  replied  Bettina.  “ I know 
them.” 

Miss  Percival  had  a hand  at  once  very  firm,  very  light, 
and  very  just.  She  held  in  the  ponies  for  a few  moments, 
forcing  them  to  keep  their  own  places;  then,  waving  the 
long  thong  of  her  whip  round  the  leaders,  she  started  her 
little  team  at  once  with  incomparable  skill,  and  left  the 
station  with  an  air  of  triumph,  in  the  midst  of  a long  mur- 
mur of  astonishment  and  admiration. 

The  trot  of  the  black  ponies  rang  on  the  little  oval 
paving-stones  of  Souvigny.  Bettina  held  them  well  to- 
gether until  she  had  left  the  town ; but  as  soon  as  she  saw 
before  her  a clear  mile  and  a half  of  high  road — almost 
on  a dead  level  — she  let  them  gradually  increase  their 
speed  till  they  went  like  the  wind. 

“ Oh,  how  happy  I am,  Suzie  ! ” cried  she;  “ and  we 
shall  trot  and  gallop  all  alone  on  these  roads.  Suzie, 
would  you  like  to  drive?  It  is  such  a delight  when  one 
can  let  them  go  at  full  speed.  They  are  so  spirited  and 
so  gentle.  Come,  take  the  reins.” 

“ No ; keep  them.  It  is  a greater  pleasure  to  me  to 
see  you  happy.” 

“ Oh,  as  to  that,  I am  perfectly  happy.  I do  like  so 
much  to  drive  four-in-hand  with  plenty  of  space  before 
me.  At  Paris,  even  in  the  morning,  I did  not  dare  to  any 
longer.  They  looked  at  me  so,  it  annoyed  me.  But  here 
— no  one!  no  one!  no  one!” 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


i 2 i 


At  the  moment  when  Bettina,  already  a little  intoxicated 
with  the  bracing  air  and  liberty,  gave  forth  triumphantly 
these  three  exclamations,  “ No  one ! no  one ! no  one ! ” 
a rider  appeared,  walking  his  horse  in  the  direction  of  the 
carriage.  It  was  Paul  de  Lavardens.  He  had  been  watch- 
ing for  more  than  an  hour  for  the  pleasure  of  seeing  the 
Americans  pass. 

“You  are  mistaken,”  said  Suzie  to  Bettina;  “there  is 
some  one.” 

“A  peasant;  they  don’t  count.  They  won’t  ask  me  to 
marry  them.” 

“ It  is  not  a peasant  at  all.  Look ! ” 

Paul  de  Lavardens,  while  passing  the  carriage,  made  the 
two  sisters  a highly  correct  bow,  from  which  one  at  once 
scented  the  Parisian. 

The  ponies  were  going  at  such  a rate  that  the  meeting 
was  over  like  a flash  of  lightning. 

Bettina  cried,  “Who  is  that  gentleman  who  has  just 
bowed  to  us?” 

“ I had  scarcely  time  to  see ; but  I seemed  to  recognize 
him.” 

“ You  recognized  him?  ” 

“ Yes,  and  I would  wager  that  I have  seen  him  at  our 
house  this  winter.” 

“Heavens!  if  it  should  be  one  of  the  thirty-four!  Is 
all  that  going  to  begin  again?” 


CHAPTER  VI. 

npHAT  same  day  at  half-past  seven  Jean  went  to  fetch 
the  Cure,  and  the  two  walked  together  up  to  the 
house.  During  the  last  month  a perfect  army  of  workmen 
had  taken  possession  of  Longueval ; all  the  inns  in  the 
village  were  making  their  fortunes.  Immense  furniture- 
wagons  brought  cargoes  of  furniture  and  decorations  from 
Paris.  Forty-eight  hours  before  the  arrival  of  Mrs.  Scott, 
Mademoiselle  Marbeau,  the  post-mistress,  and  Madame 
Lormier,  the  mayoress,  had  wormed  themselves  into  the 
castle;  and  the  account  they  gave  of  the  interior  turned 
every  one’s  head.  The  old  furniture  had  disappeared,  ban- 
ished to  the  attics ; one  moved  among  a perfect  accumula- 
tion of  wonders.  And  the  stables  ! and  the  coach-houses  ! 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


1 24 


A special  train  had  brought  from  Paris,  under  the  high 
superintendence  of  Edwards,  a dozen  carriages  ! — and  such 
carriages  ! Twenty  horses  ! — and  such  horses  ! 

The  Abbe  Constantin  thought  that  he  knew  what  luxury 
was.  Once  a year  he  dined  with  his  bishop,  Monseigneur 
Faubert,  a rich  and  amiable  prelate,  who  entertained  rather 
largely.  The  Cure  till  now  had  thought  that  there  was 
nothing  in  the  world  more  sumptuous  than  the  episcopal 
palace  of  Souvigny,  or  the  castles  of  Lavardens  and 
Longueval. 

He  began  to  understand,  from  what  he  was  told  of  the 
new  splendors  of  Longueval,  that  the  luxury  of  the  great 
houses  of  the  present  day  must  surpass  to  a singular 
degree  the  sober  and  severe  luxury  of  the  great  houses 
of  former  times. 

As  soon  as  the  Cure  and  Jean  had  entered  the  avenue  in 
the  park,  which  led  to  the  house,  “ Look,  Jean!  ” said  the 
Cure;  “ what  a change  ! All  this  part  of  the  park  used  to 
be  quite  neglected,  and  now  all  the  paths  are  gravelled  and 
raked.  I shall  not  be  able  to  feel  myself  at  home  as  I used 
to  do;  it  will  be  too  grand.  I shall  not  find  again  my  old 
brown-velvet  easy-chair,  in  which  I so  often  fell  asleep  after 
dinner;  and  if  I fall  asleep  this  evening  what  will  become  of 
me?  You  will  think  of  it,  Jean,  and  if  you  see  that  I begin 
to  forget  myself,  you  will  come  behind  me  and  pinch  my 
arm  gently,  won’t  you?  You  promise  me?  ” 

“ Certainly,  certainly;  I promise  you.” 

Jean  paid  but  slight  attention  to  the  conversation  of  the 
Cure.  He  felt  extremely  impatient  to  see  Mrs.  Scott  and 


The  Abbe  Constantin. 


i25 


Miss  Percival  again,  but  this  impatience  was  mingled  with 
very  keen  anxiety.  Would  he  find  them  in  the  great  salon 
at  Longueval  the  same  as  he  had  seen  them  in  the  little 
dining-room  at  the  vicarage?  Perhaps,  instead  of  those 
two  women,  so  perfectly  simple  and  familiar,  amusing  them- 
selves with  this  little  improvised  dinner,  and  who  the  very 
first  day  had  treated  him  with  so  much  grace  and  cordiality, 
perhaps  would  he  find  two  pretty  dolls,  — worldly,  elegant, 
cold,  and  correct?  Would  his  first  impression  be  effaced? 
Would  it  disappear,  or,  on  the  contrary,  would  the  im- 
pression in  his  heart  become  still  sweeter  and  deeper? 

They  ascended  the  six  steps  at  the  entrance,  and  were 
received  in  the  hall  by  two  tall  footmen  with  the  most  digni- 
fied and  imposing  air.  This  hall  had  formerly  been  a vast, 
frigid  apartment,  with  bare  stone  walls.  These  walls  were 
now  covered  with  admirable  tapestry,  representing  mytho- 
logical subjects.  The  Cure  dared  scarcely  glance  at  this 
tapestry;  it  was  enough  for  him  to  perceive  that  the  god- 
desses who  wandered  through  these  shades  wore  costumes 
of  antique  simplicity. 

One  of  the  footmen  opened  wide  the  folding-doors  of  the 
salon.  It  was  there  that  one  had  generally  found  the  old 
Marquise,  on  the  right  of  the  high  chimney-piece,  and  on 
the  left  had  stood  the  brown-velvet  easy-chair. 

No  brown  easy-chair  now  ! That  old  relic  of  the  Empire, 
which  was  the  basis  of  the  arrangement  of  the  salon,  had 
been  replaced  by  a marvellous  specimen  of  tapestry  of  the 
end  of  the  last  century.  Then  a crowd  of  little  easy-chairs, 
and  ottomans  of  all  forms  and  all  colors,  were  scattered  here 


126 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


and  there  with  an  appearance  of  disorder  which  was  the 
perfection  of  art. 

As  soon  as  Mrs.  Scott  saw  the  Cure  and  Jean  enter,  she 
rose,  and  going  to  meet  them,  said,  — 

“ How  kind  of  you  to  come,  Monsieur  le  Cure,  and  you 
too,  M.  Jean.  How  pleased  I am  to  see  you,  my  first,  my 
only  friends  down  here  ! ” 

Jean  breathed  again.  It  was  the  same  woman. 

“Will  you  allow  me,”  added  Mrs.  Scott,  “to  introduce 
my  children  to  you?  Harry  and  Bella,  come  here.” 
Harry  was  a very  pretty  little  boy  of  six,  and  Bella  a 
very  charming  little  girl  of  five  years  old.  They  had 
their  mother’s  large  dark  eyes,  and  her  golden  hair. 

After  the  Cure  had  kissed  the  two  children,  Harry,  who 
was  looking  with  admiration  at  Jean’s  uniform,  said  to 
his  mother,  — 

“And  the  soldier,  mamma,  must  we  kiss  him  too?” 

“ If  you  like,”  replied  Mrs.  Scott,  “and  if  he  will  allow  it” 
A moment  after,  the  two  children  were  installed  upon 
Jean’s  knees,  and  overwhelming  him  with  questions. 

“ Are  you  an  officer?  ” 

“ Yes,  I am  an  officer.” 

“ What  in?  ” 

“ In  the  artillery.” 

“ The  artillery ! Oh,  you  are  one  of  the  men  who  fire 
the  cannons.  Oh,  how  I should  like  to  be  quite  near  when 
they  fire  the  cannons  ! ” 

“Will  you  take  us  some  day  when  they  fire  the  cannons? 
Tell  me,  will  you?  ” 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


127 


Meanwhile  Mrs.  Scott  chatted  with  the  Cure,  and  Jean, 
while  replying  to  the  children’s  questions,  looked  at  Mrs. 
Scott.  She  wore  a white  muslin  dress,  but  the  muslin 
disappeared  under  a complete  avalanche  of  little  flounces 
of  Valenciennes.  The  dress  was  cut  out  in  front  in  a large 
square,  her  arms  were  bare  to  the  elbow,  a large  bouquet 
of  red  roses  was  at  the  opening  of  her  dress,  and  a red  rose 
fixed  in  her  hair  with  a diamond  agrafe , — nothing  more. 

Mrs.  Scott  suddenly  perceived  that  the  children  had 
taken  entire  possession  of  Jean,  and  exclaimed,  — 

“ Oh,  I beg  your  pardon  ! Harry,  Bella  ! ” 

“ Oh,  pray  let  them  stay  with  me  ! ” 

“ I am  so  sorry  to  keep  you  waiting  for  dinner.  My 
sister  is  not  down  yet.  Oh,  here  she  is ! ” 

Bettina  entered.  The  same  dress  of  white  muslin,  the 
same  delicate  mass  of  lace,  the  same  red  roses,  the  same 
grace,  the  same  beauty,  and  the  same  smiling,  amiable, 
candid  manner. 

“ How  do  you  do,  Monsieur  le  Cure?  I am  delighted  to 
see  you.  Have  you  pardoned  my  dreadful  intrusion  of  the 
other  day?  ” Then,  turning  towards  Jean  and  offering  him 
her  hand,  “ How  do  you  do,  Monsieur  — Monsieur — Oh! 
I cannot  remember  your  name,  and  yet  we  seem  to  be 
already  old  friends,  Monsieur — ” 

“ Jean  Reynaud.” 

“Jean  Reynaud,  that  is  it.  How  do  you  do,  M.  Rey- 
naud? I warn  you  faithfully  that  when  we  really  are 
old  friends  — that  is  to  say,  in  about  a week  — I shall  call 
you  M.  Jean.  It  is  a pretty  name,  — Jean.” 


128 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


Up  to  the  moment  when  Bettina  appeared,  Jean  had  said 
to  himself,  “ Mrs.  Scott  is  the  prettier!  ” 

When  he  felt  Bettina’s  little  hand  slip  into  his  arm, 
and  when  she  turned  towards  him  her  delicious  face,  he 
said,  “ Miss  Percival  is  the  prettier!” 

But  his  perplexities  gathered  round  him  again  when 
he  was  seated  between  the  two  sisters.  If  he  looked  to 
the  right,  love  threatened  him  from  that  direction ; and  if 
he  looked  to  the  left,  the  danger  removed  immediately, 
and  passed  to  the  left. 

Conversation  began,  easy,  animated,  confidential.  The 
two  sisters  were  charmed.  They  had  already  walked  in 
the  park;  they  promised  themselves  a long  ride  in  the 
forest  to-morrow.  Riding  was  their  passion,  their  mad- 
ness. It  was  also  Jean’s  passion;  so  that  after  a quarter 
of  an  hour  they  begged  him  to  join  them  the  next  day. 
There  was  no  one  who  knew  the  country  round  better 
than  he  did ; it  was  his  native  place.  He  should  be  so 
happy  to  do  the  honors  of  it,  and  to  show  them  num- 
bers of  delightful  little  spots  which  without  him  they 
would  never  discover. 

“ Do  you  ride  every  day?”  asked  Bettina. 

“ Every  day,  and  sometimes  twice.  In  the  morning  I 
am  on  duty,  and  in  the  evening  I ride  for  my  own 
pleasure.” 

“ Early  in  the  morning?” 

“ At  half-past  five.” 

“ At  half-past  five  every  morning?” 

“ Yes,  except  Sunday.” 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


129 


“Then  you  get  up — •” 

“ At  half-past  four.” 

“And  is  it  light?” 

“ Oh,  just  now,  broad  daylight.” 

“To  get  up  at  half-past  four  is  admirable;  we  often 
finish  our  day  just  when  yours  is  beginning.  And  are 
you  fond  of  your  profession?” 

“ Very.  It  is  an  excellent  thing  to  have  one’s  life 
plain  before  one,  with  exact  and  definite  duties.” 

“And  yet,”  said  Mrs.  Scott,  “ not  to  be  one’s  own 
master, — -to  be  always  obliged  to  obey!” 

“That  is  perhaps  what  suits  me  best;  there  is  nothing 
easier  than  to  obey,  and  then  to  learn  to  obey  is  the 
only  way  of  learning  to  command.” 

“ Ah  ! since  you  say  so,  it  must  be  true.” 

“Yes,  no  doubt,”  added  the  Cure;  “but  he  does  not 
tell  you  that  he  is  the  most  distinguished  officer  in  his 
regiment,  that  — ” 

“ Oh,  pray  do  not ! ” 

The  Cure,  .in  spite  of  the  resistance  of  Jean,  was 
about  to  launch  into  a panegyric  on  his  godson,  when 
Bettina,  interposing,  said,  — 

“It  is  unnecessary,  Monsieur  le  Cure;  do  not  say  any- 
thing. We  know  already  all  that  you  would  tell  us;  we 
have  been  so  indiscreet  as  to  make  inquiries  about  M. 
— oh!  I was  just  going  to  say  M.  Jean  — about  M.  Rey- 
naud.  Well,  the  information  we  received  was  excellent.” 

“ I am  curious  to  know,”  said  Jean. 

“ Nothing!  nothing!  you  shall  know  nothing.  I do  not 
wish  to  make  you  blush,  and  you  would  be  obliged  to  blush.” 


13° 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


Then  turning  towards  the  Cure,  “ And  about  you.  too, 
Monsieur  l’Abbe,  we  have  had  some  information.  It  ap- 
pears that  you  are  a saint.” 

“ Oh  ! as  to  that,  it  is  perfectly  true,”  cried  Jean. 

It  was  the  Cure  this  time  who  cut  short  the  eloquence 
of  Jean.  Dinner  was  almost  over.  The  old  priest  had 
not  got  through  this  dinner  without  experiencing  many 
emotions.  They  had  repeatedly  presented  to  him  com- 
plicated and  scientific  constructions  upon  which  he  had 
only  ventured  with  a trembling  hand.  He  was  afraid  of 
seeing  the  whole  crumble  beneath  his  touch,  — the  trem- 
bling castles  of  jelly,  the  pyramids  of  truffles,  the  for- 
tresses of  cream,  the  bastions  of  pastry,  the  rocks  of  ice. 
Otherwise  the  Abbe  Constantin  dined  with  an  excellent 
appetite,  and  did  not  recoil  before  two  or  three  glasses 
of  champagne.  He  was  no  foe  to  good  cheer.  Perfec- 
tion is  not  of  this  world  ; and  if  gormandizing  were,  as 
they  say,  a cardinal  sin,  how  many  good  priests  would 
be  damned  ! 

Coffee  was  served  on  the  terrace  in  front  of  the  house ; 
in  the  distance  was  heard  the  harsh  voice  of  the  old  vil- 
lage clock  striking  nine.  Woods  and  fields  were  slum- 
bering; the  avenues  in  the  park  showed  only  as  long 
undulating  and  undecided  lines.  The  moon  slowly  rose 
over  the  tops  of  the  great  trees. 

Bettina  took  the  box  of  cigars  from  the  table.  “ Do  you 
smoke?  ” said  she. 

“ Yes,  Miss  Percival.” 

“Take  one,  M.  Jean.  It  can’t  be  helped,  I have  said 
it.  Take  one  — but  no,  listen  to  me  first.”  And  speaking 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


131 


in  a low  voice  while  offering  him  the  box  of  cigars,  “ It 
is  getting  dark;  now  you  may  blush  at  your  ease,  I will 
tell  you  what  I did  not  say  at  dinner.  An  old  lawyer  in 
Souvigny,  who  was  your  guardian,  came  to  see  my  sister 
in  Paris  about  the  payment  for  the  place ; he  told  us 
what  you  did  after  your  father’s  death,  when  you  were 
only  a child,  — what  you  did  for  that  poor  mother,  and 
for  that  poor  young  girl.  Both  my  sister  and  I were  much 
touched  by  it.” 

“ Yes,”  continued  Mrs.  Scott,  “ and  that  is  why  we  have 
received  you  to-day  with  so  much  pleasure.  We  should  not 
have  given  such  a reception  to  every  one,  of  that  you  may 
be  sure.  Well,  now  take  your  cigar,  my  sister  is  waiting.” 
Jean  could  not  find  a word  in  reply.  Bettina  stood  there 
with  the  box  of  cigars  in  her  two  hands,  her  eyes  fixed 
frankly  on  the  countenance  of  Jean.  At  the  moment,  she 
tasted  a true  and  keen  pleasure  which  may  be  expressed  by 
this  phrase : “ It  seems  to  me  that  I see  before  me  a man 
of  honor.” 

“ And  now,”  said  Mrs.  Scott,  “ let  us  sit  here  and  enjoy 
this  delicious  night;  take  your  coffee,  smoke  — ” 

“ And  do  not  let  us  talk,  Suzie;  do  not  let  us  talk!  This 
great  silence  of  the  country,  after  the  great  noise  and  bus- 
tle of  Paris,  is  delightful ! Let  us  sit  here  without  speak- 
ing; let  us  look  at  the  sky,  the  moon,  and  the  stars.” 

All  four  with  much  pleasure  carried  out  this  little  pro- 
gramme. Suzie  and  Bettina,  calm,  reposeful,  absolutely 
separated  from  their  existence  of  yesterday,  already  felt  a 
tenderness  for  the  place  which  had  just  received  them  and 
was  going  to  keep  them.  Jean  was  less  tranquil;  the  words 


1 32 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


of  Miss  Percival  had  caused  him  profound  emotion;  his 
heart  had  not  yet  quite  regained  its  regular  throb. 

But  the  happiest  of  all  was  the  Abbe  Constantin.  This 
little  episode  which  had  caused  Jean’s  modesty  such  a rude, 
yet  sweet  trial,  had  brought  him  exquisite  joy,  the  Abbe  bore 
his  godson  such  affection.  The  most  tender  father  never 
loved  more  warmly  the  dearest  of  his  children.  When  the 
old  Cure  looked  at  the  young  officer  he  often  said  to  himself, 
'*  Heaven  has  been  too  kind ; I am  a priest,  and  I have  a 
son  ! ” 

The  Abbe  sank  into  a very  agreeable  revery.  He  felt 
himself  at  home;  he  felt  himself  too  much  at  home.  By  de- 
grees his  ideas  became  hazy  and  confused,  revery  became 
drowsiness,  drowsiness  became  slumber,  the  disaster  was  soon 
complete,  irreparable;  the  Cure  slept,  and  slept  profoundly. 
This  marvellous  dinner  and  the  two  or  three  glasses  of  cham- 
pagne may  have  had  something  to  do  with  the  catastrophe. 

Jean  perceived  nothing;  he  had  forgotten  the  promise 
made  to  his  godfather.  And  why  had  he  forgotten  it?  Be- 
cause Mrs.  Scott  and  Miss  Percival  had  thought  proper  to 
put  their  feet  on  the  footstools  placed  in  front  of  their  great 
wicker  garden-chairs  filled  with  cushions;  then  they  had 
thrown  themselves  lazily  back  in  their  chairs,  and  their  mus- 
lin skirts  had  become  raised  a little,  — a very  little,  but  yet 
enough  to  display  four  little  feet,  the  lines  of  which  showed 
very  distinctly  and  clearly  beneath  two  pretty  clouds  of 
white  lace.  Jean  looked  at  these  little  feet,  and  asked  him- 
self this  question,  “ Which  are  the  smaller?” 

While  he  was  trying  to  solve  this  problem,  Bettina  all  at 
once  said  to  him  in  a low  voice,  “ M/ Jean  ! M.  Jean  ! ” 


UBPMl 

Of  THE 

uv ivswrv  or  ini’*  s 


4 


4 


i 


. 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


135 


“ Miss  Percival?  ” 

“ Look  at  the  Cure  ; he  is  asleep  ! ” 

“ Oh  ! it  is  my  fault.” 

“ How,  your  fault?  ” asked  Mrs.  Scott,  also  in  a low 
voice. 

“Yes;  my  godfather  rises  at  daybreak  and  goes  to  bed 
very  early.  He  told  me  to  be  sure  and  prevent  his  falling 
asleep;  when  Madame  de  Longueval  was  here  he  very 
often  had  a nap  after  dinner.  You  have  shown  him  so 
much  kindness  that  he  has  fallen  back  into  his  old 
habits.” 

“ And  he  is  perfectly  right,”  said  Bettina.  “ Do  not  make 
a noise ; do  not  wake  him.” 

“ You  are  too  good,  Miss  Percival;  but  the  air  is  getting 
a little  fresh.” 

“ Ah ! that  is  true,  he  might  catch  cold.  Stay,  I will  go 
and  fetch  a wrap  for  him.” 

“ I think,  Miss  Percival,  it  would  be  better  to  try  and 
wake  him  skilfully,  so  that  he  should  not  suspect  that  you 
had  seen  him  asleep.” 

“ Let  me  do  it,”  said  Bettina.  “ Suzie,  let  us  sing  together, 
very  softly  at  first,  then  we  will  raise  our  voices  little  by 
little  ; let  us  sing.  ” 

“ Willingly,  but  what  shall  we  sing?  ” 

“ Let  us  sing  ‘ Quelque  chose  d’enfantin ; ’ the  words  are 
suitable.” 

Suzie  and  Bettina  began  to  sing,  — 

“ If  I had  but  two  little  wings, 

And  were  a little  feathery  bird.” 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


1 36 


Their  sweet  and  penetrating  voices  had  an  exquisite  sono- 
rity in  that  profound  silence.  The  Abbe  heard  nothing, 
did  not  move.  Charmed  with  this  little  concert,  Jean  said 
to  himself,  “ Heaven  grant  that  my  godfather  may  not 
wake  too  soon  ! ” 

The  voices  became  clearer  and  louder,  — 

“ But  in  my  sleep  to  you  I fly, 

I ’m  always  with  you  in  my  sleep.” 

Yet  the  Abbe  did  not  stir. 

“ How  he  sleeps!  ” said  Suzie ; “it  is  a crime  to  wake 
him.” 

“ But  we  must;  louder,  Suzie,  louder.” 

Suzie  and  Bettina  both  gave  free  scope  to  the  power  of 
their  voices. 

“ Sleep  stays  not,  though  a monarch  bids  ; 

So  I love  to  wake  ere  break  of  day.” 

The  Cure  woke  with  a start.  After  a short  moment  of 
anxiety  he  breathed  again.  Evidently  no  one  had  noticed 
that  he  had  been  asleep.  He  collected  himself,  stretched 
himself  prudently,  slowly;  he  was  saved! 

A quarter  of  an  hour  later  the  two  sisters  accompanied 
the  Cure  and  Jean  to  the  little  gate  of  the  park,  which 
opened  into  the  village  a few  yards  from  the  vicarage ; they 
had  nearly  reached  the  gate  when  Bettina  said  all  at  once  to 
Jean,  “Ah!  all  this  time  I have  had  a question  to  ask 
you.  This  morning  when  we  arrived,  we  met  on  the  way  a 
slight  young  man,  with  a fair  mustache;  he  was  riding  a 
black  horse,  and  bowed  to  us  as  we  passed.” 


wwye 


UBRAS* 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


139 


“ It  was  Paul  de  Lavardens,  one  of  my  friends.  He  has 
already  had  the  honor  of  being  introduced  to  you,  but 
rather  vaguely;  and  his  ambition  is  to  be  presented 
again.” 

“Well,  you  shall  bring  him  one  of  these  days,”  said 
Mrs.  Scott. 

“ After  the  twenty-fifth  ! ” cried  Bettina.  “ Not  before  ! 
not  before  ! No  one  till  then till  then  we  will  see  no  one 
but  you,  M.  Jean.  But  you;^j£t  is  very  extraordinary,  and 
I don’t  quite  know  how  it  has  happened,  — you  don’t  seem 
anybody  to  us.  The  compliment  is  perhaps  not  very  well 
turned  ; but  do  not  make  a mistake,  it  is  a compliment.  I in- 
tended to  be  excessively  amiable  in  speaking  to  you  thus.” 

“ And  so  you  are,  Miss  Percival.” 

“ So  much  the  better  if  I have  been  so  fortunate  as  to 
make  myself  understood.  Good-by,  M.  Jean — till  to- 
morrow ! ” 

Mrs.  Scott  and  Miss  Percival  returned  slowly  towards 
the  castle. 

“ And  now,  Suzie,”  said  Bettina,  “ scold  me  well ; I expect 
it,  I have  deserved  it.” 

“ Scold  you  ! Why?  ” 

“You  are  going  to  say,  I am  sure,  that  I have  been  too 
familiar  with  that  young  man.” 

“ No,  I shall  not  say  that.  From  the  first  day  that  young 
man  has  made  the  most  favorable  impression  upon  me;  he 
inspires  me  with  perfect  confidence.” 

“And  so  he  does  me.” 

“ I am  persuaded  that  it  would  be  well  for  us  both  to  try 
to  make  a friend  of  him,” 


140 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


“ With  all  my  heart,  as  far  as  I am  concerned,  so  much 
the  more  as  I have  seen  many  young  men  since  we  have 
lived  in  France.  Oh,  yes,  I have,  indeed!  Well!  this  is 
the  first,  positively  the  first,  in  whose  eyes  I have  not  clearly 
read,  ‘ Oh,  how  glad  I should  be  to  marry  the  millions  of 
that  little  person  ! ’ That  was  written  in  the  eyes  of  all  the 
others,  but  not  in  his  eyes.  Now  here  we  are,  at  home 
again  ! Good-night,  Suzie  — to-morrow.” 

Mrs.  Scott  went  to  see  and  kiss  her  sleeping  children. 

Bettina  remained  long,  leaning  on  the  balustrade  of  her 
balcony. 

“ It  seems  to  me,”  said  she,  “ that  I am  going  to  be  very 
fond  of  this  place.” 


> 


CHAPTER  VII. 


^ I ^HE  next  morning,  on  returning  from  drill,  Jean  found 
^ Paul  de  Lavardens  waiting  for  him  at  the  barracks ; 
he  scarcely  allowed  him  time  to  dismount,  and  the  moment 
he  had  him  alone,  “ Quick ! ” said  he,  “describe  your 
dinner-party  of  yesterday.  I saw  them  myself  in  the 
morning;  the  little  one  was  driving  four  ponies,  and  with 
an  amount  of  audacity.  I bowed  to  them ; did  they 
mention  me?  Did  they  recognize  me?  When  will  you 
take  me  to  Longueval?  Answer  me.” 

“ Answer?  yes.  But  which  question  first?” 

“ The  last.” 

“When  will  I take  you  to  Longueval?  ” 


142 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


44  Yes.” 

44  Well,  in  ten  days;  they  don’t  want  to  see  any  one  just 
now.” 

44  Then  you  are  not  going  back  to  Longueval  for  ten 
days?” 

44  Oh,  I shall  go  back  to-day  at  four  o’clock.  But 
I don’t  count,  you  know.  Jean  Reynaud  the  Cure’s  god- 
son,— that  is  why  I have  penetrated  so  easily  into  the 
confidence  of  these  two  charming  women.  I have  pre- 
sented myself  under  the  patronage  and  with  the  guaran- 
tee of  the  Church.  And  then  they  have  discovered  that 
I could  render  them  little  services.  I know  the  country 
very  well,  and  they  will  make  use  of  me  as  a guide.  In 
a word,  I am  nobody;  while  you,  Comte  Paul  de  Lavar- 
dens,  you  are  somebody.  So  fear  nothing,  your  turn  will 
come  with  the  fetes  and  balls.  Then  you  will  be  resplen- 
dent in  all  your  glory,  and  I shall  return  very  humbly  into 
my  obscurity.” 

“You  may  laugh  at  me  as  much  as  you  like;  it  is  none 
the  less  true  that  during  those  ten  days  you  will  steal  a 
march  upon  me  — upon  me  ! ” 

“ How  upon  you  ? ” 

44  Now,  Jean,  do  you  want  to  make  me  believe  that  you 
are  not  already  in  love  with  one  of  these  two  women?  Is 
it  possible?  So  much  beauty,  so  much  luxury!  Luxury 
to  that  degree  upsets  me.  Those  black  ponies  with  their 
white  rosettes ! I dreamed  of  them  last  night,  and  that 
little  — Bettina,  is  it  not?” 

44  Yes,  Bettina.” 


The  Abbe  Constantin. 


143 


“ Bettina  — Comtesse  Bettina  de  Lavardens  ! Does  n’t 
that  sound  well  enough?  and  what  a perfect  husband  she 
would  have  in  me  ! To  be  the  husband  of  a woman  pos- 
sessing boundless  wealth,  — that  is  my  destiny.  It  is  not 
so  easy  as  one  may  suppose.  I have  already  run  through 
something,  and  if  my  mother  had  not  stopped  me ! but 
I am  quite  ready  to  begin  again.  Oh,  how  happy  that 
girl  would  be  with  me ! I would  create  around  her  the 
existence  of  a fairy  queen.  In  all  her  luxury  she  would 
feel  the  taste,  the  art,  and  the  skill  of  her  husband.  I 
would  pass  my  life  in  adoring  her,  in  displaying  her 
beauty,  in  petting  her,  in  bearing  her  triumphant  through 
the  world.  I would  study  her  beauty  in  order  to  give  it 
the  frame  that  best  suited  it.  ‘ If  he  were  not  there,’  she 
would  say,  4 1 should  not  be  so  beautiful,  so  dazzling.’  I 
should  know  not  only  how  to  love  her,  but  how  to  amuse 
her.  She  would  have  something  for  her  money;  she 
would  have  love  and  pleasure.  Come,  Jean,  do  a good 
action,  take  me  to  Mrs.  Scott's  to-day.” 

“ I cannot,  I assure  you.” 

“Well,  then,  in  ten  days;  but  I give  you  fair  notice,  I 
shall  install  myself  at  Longueval,  and  shall  not  move.  In 
the  first  place,  it  would  please  my  mother;  she  is  still  a 
little  prejudiced  against  the  Americans.  She  says  that  she 
shall  arrange  not  to  see  them ; but  I know  my  mother. 
Some  day,  when  I shall  go  home  in  the  evening  and  tell 
her,  ‘ Mother,  I have  won  the  heart  of  a charming  little 
person  who  is  burdened  with  a capital  of  twenty  millions,’ 
— they  exaggerate  when  they  talk  of  hundreds  of  millions; 


144 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


you  know  these  are  the  correct  figures,  and  they  are 
enough  for  me,- — that  evening,  then,  my  mother  will  be 
delighted,  because  in  her  heart  what  is  it  she  desires  for 
me?  What  all  good  mothers  desire  for  their  sons,  — a 
good  marriage,  or  a discreet  liaison  with  some  one  in 
society.  At  Longueval  I find  these  two  essentials,  and  I 
will  accommodate  myself  very  willingly  to  either.  You 
will  have  the  kindness  to  warn  me  in  ten  days ; you  will 
let  me  know  which  of  the  two  you  abandon  to  me,  Mrs. 
Scott  or  Miss  Percival.” 

“You  are  mad,  you  are  quite  mad!  I do  not,  I never 
shall  think  — ” 

“ Listen,  Jean.  You  are  wisdom  personified.  You  may 
say  and  do  as  you  like ; but  remember  what  I say  to  you, 
Jean,  you  will  fall  in  love  in  that  house.” 

“ I do  not  believe  it,”  replied  Jean,  laughing. 

“ But  I am  absolutely  sure  of  it.  Good-by.  I leave 
you  to  your  duties.” 

That  morning  Jean  was  perfectly  sincere.  He  had  slept 
very  well  the  previous  night;  the  second  interview  with 
the  two  sisters  had,  as  if  by  enchantment,  dissipated  the 
slight  trouble  which  had  agitated  his  soul  after  the  first 
meeting.  He  prepared  to  meet  them  again  with  much 
pleasure,  but  also  with  much  tranquillity;  there  was  too 
much  money  in  that  house  to  permit  the  love  of  a poor 
devil  like  Jean  to  find  place  honestly  there. 

Friendship  was  another  affair;  with  all  his  heart  he 
wished,  and  with  all  his  strength  he  sought,  to  establish 
himself  peacefully  in  the  esteem  and  regard  of  the  sisters. 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


145 


He  would  try  not  to  remark  too  much  the  beauty  of  Suzie 
and  Bettina;  he  would  try  not  to  forget  himself  as  he 
had  done  the  previous  evening,  in  the  contemplation  of 
the  four  little  feet  resting  on  their  footstools.  They  had 
said  very  frankly,  very  cordially  to  him,  “ You  shall  be 
our  friend.”  That  was  all  he  desired,  — to  be  their  friend; 
and  that  he  would  be. 

During  the  ten  days  that  followed,  all  conduced  to  the 
success  of  this  enterprise.  Suzie,  Bettina,  the  Cure,  and 
Jean  led  the  same  life  in  the  closest  and  most  cordial 
intimacy. 

Jean  did  not  seek  to  analyze  his  feelings.  He  felt  for 
these  two  women  an  equal  affection ; he  was  perfectly 
happy,  perfectly  tranquil.  Then  he  was  not  in  love, 
for  love  and  tranquillity  seldom  dwell  at  peace  in  the 
same  heart. 

Jean,  however,  saw  approach  with  a little  anxiety  and 
sadness  the  day  which  would  bring  to  Longueval  the 
Turners  and  the  Nortons  and  the  whole  force  of  the 
American  colony.  The  day  came  too  soon. 

On  Friday,  the  24th  of  June,  at  four  o’clock,  Jean  ar- 
rived at  the  castle.  Bettina  received  him  alone,  looking 
quite  vexed. 

“'How  annoying  it  is!  ” said  she,  “ my  sister  is  not  well, 
— a little  headache,  nothing  of  consequence,  it  will  be  gone 
by  to-morrow;  but  I dare  not  ride  with  you  alone.  In 
America  I might;  but  here  it  would  not  do,  would  it?” 

“ Certainly  not,”  replied  Jean. 

“ I must  send  you  back,  and  I am  so  sorry.” 

10 


146 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


“ And  so  am  I ; I am  very  sorry  to  be  obliged  to  go, 
and  to  lose  this  last  day,  which  I had  hoped  to  pass  with 
you.  However,  since  it  must  be,  I will  come  to-morrow 
to  inquire  after  your  sister.” 

“ She  will  see  you  herself  to-morrow;  I repeat,  it  is 
nothing  serious.  But  do  not  run  away  in  such  a hurry, 
pray;  will  you  not  spare  me  a little  quarter  of  an  hour’s 
conversation?  I want  to  speak  to  you;  sit  down  there, 
and  now  listen  to  me  well.  My  sister  and  I had  intended 
this  evening  after  dinner  to  blockade  you  into  a little  cor- 
ner of  the  drawing-room,  and  then  she  meant  to  tell  you 
what  I am  going  to  try  to  say  for  us  both ; but  I am  a 
little  nervous.  Do  not  laugh ; it  is  a very  serious  matter. 
We  wish  to  thank  you  for  having  been,  ever  since  our 
arrival  here,  so  good  to  us  both.” 

“ Oh,  Miss  Percival ! pray,  it  is  I who  — ” 

“ Oh,  do  not  interrupt  me  ! you  will  quite  confuse  me. 
I do  not  know  how  to  get  through  with  it.  I maintain, 
besides,  that  the  thanks  are  due  from  us,  not  from  you. 
We  arrived  here  two  strangers.  We  have  been  fortunate 
enough  to  immediately  find  friends.  Yes,  friends.  You 
have  taken  us  by  the  hand,  you  have  led  us  to  our  farmers, 
to  our  keepers;  while  your  godfather  took  us  to  his  poor. 
And  everywhere  you  were  so  much  beloved  that  from 
their  confidence  in  you,  they  began,  on  your  recommen- 
dation, to  like  us  a little.  You  are  adored  about  here; 
do  you  know  that?” 

* “ I was  born  here ; all  these  good  people  have  known 

\+t 

me  from  my  infancy,  and  are  grateful  to  me  for  what  my 


U BRAftY 
ti  OF  THE 

Dmversitv  of  iluncs 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


T49 


grandfather  and  father  did  for  them.  And  then  I am  of 
their  race,  the  race  of  the  peasants ; my  great-grandfather 
was  a laborer  at  Bargecourt,  a village  two  miles  from 
here.’' 

“Oh!  oh!  you  appear  very  proud  of  that!” 

“Neither  proud  nor  ashamed.” 

“ I beg  your  pardon,  you  made  a little  movement  of 
pride.  Well,  I can  tell  you  that  my  mother’s  great- 
grandfather was  a farmer  in  Brittany.  He  went  to  Can- 

/ % * 

ada  at  the  end  of  the  last  century,  when  Canada  was 
still  French.  And  you  love  v’ery  much  this  place  where 
you  were  born?” 

“ Very  much.  Perhaps  I shall  soon  be  obliged  to  leave  it.” 

“Why?” 

“ When  I get  promotion,  I shall  have  to  exchange 
into  another  regiment,  and  I shall  wander  from  garrison 
to  garrison ; but  certainly,  when  I am  an  old  commandant 
or  old  colonel,  on  half-pay,  I shall  come  back  and  live 
and  die  here  in  the  little  house  that  was  my  father’s.” 

“Always  quite  alone?” 

“Why  quite  alone?  I certainly  hope  not.” 

“You  intend  to  marry?” 

“ Yes,  certainly.” 

“You  are  trying  to  get  married?” 

“No;  one  may  think  of  marrying,  but  one  ought  not 
to  try  to  marry.” 

“ And  yet  there  are  people  who  do  try.  Come,  I can 
answer  for  that,  and  you  even ; people  have  wished  to 
marry  you,” 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


150 


“How  do  you  know  that?” 

“ Oh,  I know  all  your  little  affairs  so  well.  You  are 
what  they  call  a good  match ; and,  I repeat  it,  they  have 
wished  to  marry  you.” 

“Who  told  you  that?” 

“ Monsieur  le  Cure.” 

“Then  he  was  very  wrong,”  said  Jean,  with  a certain 
sharpness. 

“ No,  no ; he  was  not  wrong.  If  any  one  has  been 
to  blame  it  is  I.  I soon  discovered  that  your  godfather 
was  never  so  happy  as  when  he  was  speaking  of  you ; 
so  when  I was  alone  with  him  during  our  walks,  to 
please  him  I talked  of  you,  and  he  related  your  history 
to  me.  You  are  well  off;  you  are  very  well  off.  From 
Government  you  receive  every  month  two  hundred  and 
thirteen  francs  and  some  centimes;  am  I correct?” 

“Yes,”  said  Jean,  deciding  to  bear  with  a good  grace 
his  share  in  the  Cure’s  indiscretions. 

“ You  have  eight  thousand  francs’  income.” 

“Nearly,  not  quite.” 

“ Add  to  that  your  house,  which  is  worth  thirty  thou- 
sand francs.  You  are  in  an  excellent  position;  and  peo- 
ple have  asked  your  hand.” 

“ Asked  my  hand  ! No,  no.” 

“They  have;  they  have,  twice.  And  you  have  refused 
two  very  good  marriages,  two  very  good  fortunes,  if  you 
prefer  it,  — it  is  the  same  thing  for  so  many  people. 
Two  hundred  thousand  francs  in  the  one,  three  hundred 
thousand  in  the  other  case.  It  appears  that  these  for- 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


151 


tunes  are  enormous  for  the  country!  Yet  you  have  re- 
fused ! Tell  me  why.” 

“ Well,  it  concerned  two  charming  young  girls.” 

“ That  is  understood.  One  always  says  that.” 

“ But  whom  I scarcely  knew.  They  forced  me,  — for  I 
did  resist,  — they  forced  me  to  spend  two  or  three  even- 
ings with  them  last  winter.” 

“ And  then?  ” 

“Then  — I don’t  quite  know  how  to  explain  it  to  you. 
I did  not  feel  the  slightest  touch  of  embarrassment,  emo- 
tion, anxiety,  or  disturbance  — ” 

“ In  fact,”  said  Bettina,  resolutely,  “ not  the  least  sus- 
picion of  love.” 

“No,  not  the  least;  and  I returned  quite  calmly  to  my 
bachelor  den,  for  I think  it  is  better  not  to  marry  than 
to  marry  without  love.” 

“ And  I think  so  too.” 

She  looked  at  him,  he  looked  at  her;  and  suddenly, 
to  the  great  surprise  of  both,  they  found  nothing  more 
to  say,  — nothing  at  all. 

At  this  moment  Harry  and  Bella  rushed  into  the 
room  with  cries  of  joy. 

“ M.  Jean ! Are  you  there?  Come  and  see  our  ponies.” 

“Ah!”  said  Bettina,  her  voice  a little  uncertain,  “Ed- 
wards has  just  come  back  from  Paris,  and  has  brought 
two  microscopic  ponies  for  the  children.  Let  us  go  and 
see  them,  shall  we?” 

They  went  to  see  the  ponies,  which  were  indeed 
worthy  to  figure  in  the  stables  of  the  King  of  Lilliput. 


r I ^HREE  weeks  have  glided  by;  another  day  and  Jean 
will  be  obliged  to  leave  with  his  regiment  for  the 
artillery  practice.  He  will  lead  the  life  of  a soldier.  Ten 
days’  march  on  the  high-road  going  and  returning,  and 
ten  days  in  the  camp  at  Cercottes  in  the  forest  of  Orleans. 
The  regiment  will  return  to  Souvigny  on  the  ioth  of 
August. 

• Jean  is  no  longer  tranquil;  Jean  is  no  longer  happy. 
He  sees  approach  with  impatience,  and  at*  the  same  time 
with  terror,  the  moment  of  his  departure.  With  impa- 
tience, for  he  suffers  an  absolute  martyrdom ; he  longs 
to  escape  from  it.  With  terror,  for  to  pass  twenty  days 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


*54 


The  Abbe  Cons  tan  tin. 


without  seeing  her,  without  speaking  to  her,  — without  her, 
in  a word,  — what  will  become  of  him  ? Her  ! it  is  Bettina ; 
he  adores  her ! 

Since  when?  Since  the  first  day,  since  that  meeting 
in  the  month  of  May  in  the  Cure’s  garden.  That  is  the 
truth;  but  Jean  struggles  against  and  resists  that  truth. 
He  believes  that  he  has  only  loved  Bettina  since  the  day 
when  the  two  chatted  gayly,  amicably,  in  the  little  drawing- 
room. She  was  sitting  on  the  blue  couch  near  the  win- 
dow, and  while  talking  amused  herself  with  repairing  the 
disorder  of  the  dress  of  a Japanese  princess,  one  of  Bella’s 
dolls,  which  she  had  left  on  a chair,  and  which  Bettina  had 
mechanically  taken  up. 

Why  had  the  fancy  come  to  Miss  Percival  to  talk  to 
him  of  those  two  young  girls  whom  he  might  have  mar- 
ried? The  question  of  itself  was  not  at  all  embarrassing 
to  him.  He  had  replied  that  if  he  had  not  then  felt  any 
taste  for  marriage,  it  was  because  his  interviews  with  these 
two  girls  had  not  caused  him  any  emotion  or  any  agitation. 
He  had  smiled  in  speaking  thus ; but  a few  minutes  after 
he  smiled  no  more.  This  emotion,  this  agitation,  he  had 
suddenly  learned  to  know  them.  Jean  did  not  deceive  him- 
self ; he  acknowledged  the  depth  of  the  wound.  It  had 
penetrated  to  his  very  heart’s  core. 

Jean,  however,  did  not  abandon  himself  to  this  emotion. 
He  said  to  himself,  “ Yes,  it  is  serious,  very  serious, 
but  I shall  recover  from  it.” 

He  sought  an  excuse  for  his  madness;  he  laid  the  blame 
on  circumstances.  For  ten  days  this  delightful  girl  had 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


1 55 


been  too  much  with  him,  too  much  with  him  alone  ! How 
could  he  resist  such  a temptation?  He  was  intoxicated 
with  her  charm,  with  her  grace  and  beauty.  But  the  next 
day  a troop  of  visitors  would  arrive  at  Longueval,  and 
there  would  be  an  end  of  this  dangerous  intimacy.  He 
would  have  courage;  he  would  keep  at  a distance;  he 
would  lose  himself  in  the  crowd,  would  see  Bettina  less 
often  and  less  familiarly.  To  see  her  no  more  was  a 
thought  he  could  not  support ! He  wished  to  remain 
Bettina’s  friend,  since  he  could  be  nothing  but  her  friend ; 
for  there  was  another  thought  which  scarcely  entered  the 
mind  of  Jean.  This  thought  did  not  appear  extravagant 
to  him ; it  appeared  monstrous.  In  the  whole  world  there 
was  not  a more  honorable  man  than  Jean,  and  he  felt  for 
Bettina’s  money  horror,  positively  horror. 

From  the  25th  of  June  the  crowd  had  been  in  possession 
of  Longueval.  Mrs.  Norton  arrived  with  her  son,  Daniel 
Norton,  and  Mrs.  Turner  with  her  son,  Philip  Turner. 
Both  of  them,  the  young  Philip  and  the  young  Daniel, 
formed  a part  of  the  famous  brotherhood  of  the  thirty- 
four.  They  were  old  friends ; Bettina  had  treated  them 
as  such,  and  had  declared  to  them  with  perfect  frankness 
that  they  were  losing  their  time.  However,  they  were 
not  discouraged,  and  formed  the  centre  of  a little  court 
which  was  always  very  eager  and  assiduous  around 
Bettina. 

Paul  de  Lavardens  had  made  his  appearance  on  this 
scene,  and  had  very  rapidly  become  everybody’s  friend. 
He  had  received  the  brilliant  and  complicated  education 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


156 


of  a young  man  destined  for  pleasure.  As  soon  as  it  was 
a question  only  of  amusement,  riding,  croquet,  lawn  tennis, 
polo,  dancing,  charades,  and  theatricals,  he  was  ready  for 
everything,  he  excelled  in  everything.  His  superiority 
was  evident,  unquestionable.  Paul  became  in  a short  time 
by  general  consent  the  director  and  organizer  of  the  fetes 
at  Longueval. 

Bettina  had  not  a moment  of  hesitation.  Jean  intro- 
duced Paul  de  Lavardens;  and  the  latter  had  scarcely 
concluded  the  customary  little  compliment  when  Miss  Per- 
cival,  leaning  towards  her  sister,  whispered  in  her  ear,  — 

“ The  thirty-fifth  ! ” 

However,  she  received  Paul  very  kindly,  so  kindly  that 
for  several  days  he  had  the  weakness  to  misunderstand 
her.  He  believed  that  it  was  his  personal  graces  which 
had  obtained  for  him  this  very  flattering  and  cordial  re- 
ception. It  was  a great  mistake.  Paul  de  Lavardens  had 
been  introduced  by  Jean;  he  was  the  friend  of  Jean.  In 
Bettina’s  eyes  therein  lay  all  his  merit. 

Mrs.  Scott’s  castle  was  open  house.  People  were  not 
invited  for  one  evening  only,  but  for  every  evening;  and 
Paul,  with  enthusiasm,  came  every  evening.  His  dream 
was  at  last  realized ; he  had  found  Paris  at  Longueval. 

But  Paul  was  neither  blind  nor  a fool.  No  doubt  he  was, 
on  Miss  Percival’s  part,  the  object  of  very  particular  atten- 
tion and  favor.  It  pleased  her  to  talk  long,  very  long, 
alone  with  him.  But  what  was  the  eternal,  the  inexhaus- 
tible subject  of  their  conversations?  Jean,  again  Jean,  and 
always  Jean ! 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


157 


Paul  was  thoughtless,  dissipated,  frivolous;  but  he  be- 
came in  earnest  when  Jean  was  in  question.  He  knew  how 
to  appreciate  him;  he  knew  how  to  love  him.  Nothing  to 
him  was  sweeter,  nothing  was  easier  than  to  say  of  the 
friend  of  his  childhood  all  the  good  that  he  thought  of  him ; 
and  as  he  saw  that  Bettina  listened  with  great  pleasure, 
Paul  gave  free  rein  to  his  eloquence. 

Only  — and  he  was  quite  right — Paul  wished  one  even- 
ing to  reap  the  benefit  of  his  chivalrous  conduct.  He  had 
just  been  talking  for  a quarter  of  an  hour  with  Bettina. 
The  conversation  finished,  he  went  to  look  for  Jean  at  the 
other  end  of  the  drawing-room,  and  said  to  him,  — 

“ You  left  the  field  open  to  me,  and  I have  made  a bold 
stroke  for  Miss  Percival.,, 

“ Well,  you  have  no  reason  to  be  discontented  with  the 
result  of  the  enterprise.  You  are  the  best  friends  in  the 
world.” 

“Yes,  certainly;  pretty  well,  but  not  quite  satisfactory. 
There  is  nothing  more  amiable  or  more  charming  than 
Miss  Percival;  and  really  it  is  very  good  of  me  to  acknowl- 
edge it,  for,  between  ourselves,  she  makes  me  play  an  un- 
grateful and  ridiculous  role,  — a role  which  is  quite  unsuited 
to  my  age.  I am,  you  will  admit,  of  the  lover’s  age,  and 
not  of  that  of  the  confidant.” 

“ Of  the  confidant?  ” 

“ Yes,  my  dear  fellow,  of  the  confidant ! That  is  my  occu- 
pation in  this  house.  You  were  looking  at  us  just  now. 
Oh,  I have  very  good  eyes;  you  were  looking  at  us.  Well, 
do  you  know  what  we  were  talking  about?  Of  you,  my  dear 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


153 


fellow,  of  you,  of  you  again,  of  nothing  but  you.  And  it  is  the 
same  thing  every  evening;  there  is  no  end  to  the  questions: 
“‘You  were  brought  up  together?  You  took  lessons 
together  from  the  Abbe  Constantin?  Will  he  soon  be 
captain?  And  then?  5 
“ ‘ Commandant.’ 

“ ‘ And  then?  ’ 

“ ‘ Colonel,  etc.,  etc.,  etc.’ 

“ Ah,  I can  tell  you,  my  friend  Jean,  if  you  liked,  you 
might  dream  a very  delicious  dream.” 

Jean  was  annoyed,  almost  angry.  Paul  was  much 
astonished  at  this  sudden  attack  of  irritability. 

“ What  is  the  matter?  Have  I said  anything?  ” 

“ I beg  your  pardon ; I was  wrong.  But  how  could  you 
take  such  an  absurd  idea  into  your  head?  ” 

“ Absurd  ! I don’t  see  it.  I have  entertained  the  absurd 
idea  on  my  own  account.” 

“Ah!  you  — ” 

“ Why  ‘ Ah ! me’?  If  I have  had  it  you  may  have  it; 
you  are  better  worth  it  than  I am.” 

“ Paul,  I entreat  you  ! ” 

Jean’s  discomfort  was  evident. 

“We  will  not  speak  of  it  again;  we  will  not  speak  of  it 
again.  What  I wanted  to  say,  in  short,  is  that  Miss  Percival 
thinks  me  very  nice,  very  nice ; but  as  to  thinking  of  me 
seriously,  that  little  person  will  never  think  of  me  seriously. 
I must  fall  back  upon  Mrs.  Scott,  but  without  much  confi- 
dence. You  see,  Jean,  I shall  amuse  myself  in  this  house, 
but  I shall  make  nothing  out  of  it.” 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


159 


Paul  de  Lavardens  did  fall  back  upon  Mrs.  Scott,  but  the 
next  day  was  surprised  to  stumble  upon  Jean,  who  had  taken 
to  placing  himself  very  regularly  in  Mrs.  Scott’s  particular 
circle,  for,  like  Bettina,  she  had  also  her  little  court.  But 
what  Jean  sought  there  was  a protection,  a shelter,  a refuge. 

The  day  of  that  memorable  conversation  on  marriage 
without  love,  Bettina  had  also,  for  the  first  time,  felt  sud- 
denly awake  in  her  that  necessity  of  loving  which  sleeps,  but 
not  very  profoundly,  in  the  hearts  of  all  young  girls.  The 
sensation  had  been  the  same,  at  the  same  moment,  in  the 
soul  of  Bettina  and  the  soul  of  Jean.  He,  terrified,  had 
cast  it  violently  from  him.  She,  on  the  contrary,  had 
yielded  in  all  the  simplicity  of  her  perfect  innocence  to 
this  flood  of  emotion  and  of  tenderness. 

She  had  waited  for  love.  Could  this  be  love?  The  man 
who  was  to  be  her  thought,  her  life,  her  soul,  — could  this 
be  he,  this  Jean?  Why  not?  She  knew  him  better  than 
she  knew  all  those  who  during  the  past  year  had  haunted 
her  for  her  fortune,  and  in  what  she  knew  of  him  there  was 
nothing  to  discourage  the  love  of  a good  girl.  Far  from  it! 

Both  of  them  did  well;  both  of  them  were  in  the  way  of 
duty  and  of  truth,  — she  in  yielding,  he  in  resisting;  she  in 
not  thinking  for  a moment  of  the  obscurity  of  Jean,  he  in 
recoiling  before  her  mountain  of  wealth  as  he  would  have 
recoiled  before  a crime;  she  in  thinking  that  she  had  no 
right  to  parley  with  love,  he  in  thinking  he  had  no  right  to 
parley  with  honor. 


is  is  why,  in  proportion  as  Bettina  showed  herself  more 


tenuer,  and  abandoned  herself  with  more  frankness  to  the 


i6o 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


first  call  of  love, — this  is  why  Jean  became  day  by  day 
more  gloomy  and  more  restless.  He  was  not  only  afraid  of 
loving;  he  was  afraid  of  being  loved. 

He  ought  to  have  remained  away;  he  should  not  have 
come  near  her.  He  had  tried;  he  could  not.  The  tempta- 
tion was  too  strong;  it  carried  him  away,  so  he  came. 
She  would  come  to  him,  her  hands  extended,  a smile  on 
her  lips,  and  her  heart  in  her  eyes.  Everything  in  her 
said,  “ Let  us  try  to  love  each  other,  and  if  we  can  we 
will  love  ! ” 

Fear  seized  him.  Those  two  hands  which  offered  them- 
selves to  the  pressure  of  his  hands,  he  scarcely  dared  to 
touch  them.  He  tried  to  escape  those  eyes  which,  tender 
and  smiling,  anxious  and  curious,  tried  to  meet  his  eyes. 
He  trembled  before  the  necessity  of  speaking  to  Bettina, 
before  the  necessity  of  listening  to  her. 

It  was  then  that  Jean  took  refuge  with  Mrs.  Scott,  and  it 
was  then  that  Mrs.  Scott  gathered  those  uncertain,  agitated, 
troubled  words  which  were  not  addressed  to  her,  and  which 
she  took  for  herself  nevertheless.  It  would  have  been  diffi- 
cult not  to  have  been  mistaken. 

For  of  these  still  vague  and  confused  sentiments  which 
agitated  her,  Bettina  had  as  yet  said  nothing.  She  guarded 
and  caressed  the  secret  of  her  budding  love,  as  a miser 
guards  and  caresses  the  first  coins  of  his  treasure.  The 
day  when  she  should  see  clearly  into  her  own  heart,  the 
day  that  she  should  be  sure  that  she  loved,  — ah!  she 
would  speak  that  day,  and  how  happy  she  should  be  to 
tell  all  to  Suzie ! 


The  Abbe  Conslaniin. 


1 6 1 


Mrs.  Scott  had  ended  by  attributing  to  herself  this  melan- 
choly of  Jean,  which  day  by  day  took  a more  marked 
character.  She  was  flattered  by  it  — a woman  is  never  dis- 
pleased at  thinking  herself  beloved  — and  vexed  at  the 
same  time.  She  held  Jean  in  great  esteem,  in  great  affec- 
tion; but  she  was  greatly  distressed  at  the  thought  that  if 
he  were  sad  and  unhappy,  it  was  because  of  her. 

Suzie  was,  besides,  conscious  of  her  own  innocence.  With 
others  she  had  sometimes  been  coquettish,  very  coquettish. 
To  torment  them  a little,  was  that  such  a great  crime?  They 
had  nothing  to  do;  they  were  good-for-nothing;  it  occupied 
them  while  it  amused  her.  It  helped  them  to  pass  their  time, 
and  it  helped  her  too.  But  Susie  had  not  to  reproach  her- 
self for  having  flirted  with  Jean.  She  recognized  his  merit 
and  his  superiority.  He  was  worth  more  than  the  others  ; he 
was  a man  to  suffer  seriously,  and  that  was  what  Mrs.  Scott 
did  not  wish.  Already  two  or  three  times  she  had  been  on 
the  point  of  speaking  to  him  very  seriously,  very  affection- 
ately, but  she  had  reflected  Jean  was  going  away  for  three 
weeks;  on  his  return,  if  it  were  still  necessary,  she  would 
read  him  a lecture,  and  would  act  in  such  a manner  that  love 
should  not  come  and  foolishly  interfere  in  their  friendship. 

So  Jean  was  to  go  the  next  day.  Bettina  had  insisted 
that  he  should  spend  this  last  day  at  Longueval,  and  dine  at 
the  house.  Jean  had  refused,  alleging  that  he  had  much  to 
do  the  night  before  his  departure. 

He  arrived  in  the  evening,  about  half-past  ten;  he  came 
on  foot.  Several  times  on  the  way  he  had  been  inclined  to 
return. 


162 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


“ If  I had  courage  enough,”  he  said  to  himself,  “ I would 
not  see  her  again.  I shall  leave  to-morrow,  and  return  no 
more  to  Souvigny  while  she  is  there.  My  resolution  is 
taken,  and  taken  forever.” 

But  he  continued  his  way;  he  would  see  her  again — for 
the  last  time. 

As  soon  as  he  entered  the  drawing-room,  Bettina  hastened 
to  him. 

“ It  is  you  at  last ! How  late  you  are  ! ” 

“ I have  been  very  busy.” 

“ And  you  are  going  to-morrow?  ” 

“ Yes,  to-morrow.” 

“ Early?  ” 

“ At  five  in  the  morning.” 

“ You  will  go  by  the  road  which  runs  by  the  wall  of  the 
park,  and  goes  through  the  village?” 

“ Yes,  that  is  the  way  we  shall  go.” 

“ Why  so  early  in  the  morning?  I would  have  gone  out 
on  the  terrace  to  see  you  pass  and  to  wish  you  good-by.” 

Bettina  detained  for  a moment  Jean’s  burning  hand  in 
hers.  He  drew  it  mournfully  away  with  an  effort. 

“ I must  go  and  speak  to  your  sister,”  said  he. 

“ Directly.  She  has  not  seen  you ; there  are  a dozen 
persons  round  her.  Come  and  sit  here  a little  while, 
near  me.” 

He  was  obliged  to  seat  himself  beside  her. 

“We  are  going  away  too,”  said  she. 

“ You?” 

“ Yes.  An  hour  ago,  we  received  a telegram  from  my 


The  Abbe  Constantin. 


163 


brother-in-law  which  has  caused  us  great  joy.  We  did  not 
expect  him  for  a month,  but  he  is  coming  back  in  a fort- 
night. He  will  embark  the  day  after  to-morrow  at  New 
York,  on  board  the  ‘ Labrador.’  We  are  going  to  meet  him 
at  Havre.  We  shall  also  start  the  day  after  to-morrow. 
We  are  going  to  take  the  children;  it  will  do  them  a great 
deal  of  good  to  spend  a few  days  at  the  seaside.  How 
pleased  my  brother-in-law  will  be  to  know  you.  He  knows 
you  already;  we  have  spoken  of  you  in  all  our  letters.  I 
am  sure  you  and  Mr.  Scott  will  get  on  extremely  well  to^ 
gether,  he  is  so  good.  How  long  will  you  stay  away?  ” 

“ Three  weeks.” 

“ Three  weeks  in  a camp?” 

“ Yes,  Miss  Percival,  in  the  camp  of  Cercottes.” 

“ In  the  middle  of  the  forest  of  Orleans.  I made  your 
godfather  explain  all  about  it  to  me  this  morning.  Of 
course  I am  delighted  to  go  to  meet  my  brother-in-law, 
but  at  the  same  time  I am  a little  sorry  to  leave  here, 
for  I would  have  gone  every  morning  to  pay  a little 
visit  to  Monsieur  l’Abbe.  He  would  have  given  me 
news  of  you.  Perhaps,  in  about  ten  days,  you  will  write 
to  my  sister  a little  note  of  three  or  four  lines,  — it  will 
not  take  much  of  your  time,  — just  to  tell  her  how  you 
are,  and  that  you  do  not  forget  us.” 

“ Oh ! as  to  forgetting  you,  as  to  losing  the  remem- 
brance of  your  extreme  kindness,  your  goodness,  never, 
Miss  Percival,  never.” 

His  voice  trembled;  he  was  afraid  of  his  own  emotion. 
He  rose. 


164 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


“I  assure  you,  Miss  Percival,  I must  go  and  speak  to 
your  sister.  She  is  looking  at  me.  She  must  be  astonished. ” 

He  crossed  the  room ; Bettina  followed  him  with  her  eyes. 

Mrs.  Norton  had  just  placed  herself  at  the  piano  to 
play  a waltz  for  the  young  people. 

Paul  de  Lavardens  approached  Miss  Percival. 

“Will  you  do  me  the  honor,  Miss  Percival ?” 

“ I believe  I have  just  promised  this  dance  to  M. 
Jean,”  she  replied. 

“Well,  if  not  to  him,  will  you  give  it  to  me?” 

“ That  is  understood.” 

Bettina  walked  towards  Jean,  who  had  seated  himself 
near  Mrs.  Scott. 

“I  have  just  told  a dreadful  story,”  said  she.  “ M.  de 
Lavardens  has  asked  me  for  this  dance ; and  I replied 
that  I had  promised  it  to  you.  You  would  like  it, 
would  n’t  you  ? ” 

To  hold  her  in  his  arms,  to  breathe  the  perfume  of 
her  hair,  — Jean  felt  his  courage  could  not  support  this 
ordeal ; he  dared  not  accept. 

“I  regret  extremely  I cannot;  I am  not  well  to-night. 
I persisted  in  coming  because  I would  not  leave  without 
wishing  you  good-by;  but  dance!  no,  it  is  impossible!  ” 

Mrs.  Norton  began  the  prelude  of  the  waltz. 

“Well,”  said  Paul,  coming  up  quite  joyful,  “who  is  it 
to  be,  he  or  I? 

“ You,”  she  said  sadly,  without  removing  her  eyes 
from  Jean. 

She  was  much  disturbed,  and  replied  without  knowing 


u mm 

OF  THE 

13*  v'fiSI T'  OF  ItU^’S 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


167 


well  what  she  said.  She  immediately  regretted  having  ac- 
cepted ; she  would  have  liked  to  stay  there,  near  him.  But 
it  was  too  late ; Paul  took  her  hand  and  led  her  away. 

Jean  rose.  He  looked  at  the  two,  Bettina  and  Paul;  a 
haze  floated  before  his  eyes;  he  suffered  cruelly. 

“ There  is  only  one  thing  I can  do,”  thought  he,  — 
“ profit  by  this  waltz,  and  go.  To-morrow  I will  write  a 

few  lines  to  Mrs.  Scott  to  excusfe  myself.” 

■■  • 

He  gained  the  door.  He  looked  no  more  at  Bettina ; 
had  he  looked,  he  would  have  stayed. 

But  Bettina  looked  at  him ; and  all  at  once  she  said 
to  Paul,  — 

“ Thank  you  very  much,  but  I am  a little  tired ; let  us 
stop,  please.  You  will  excuse  me,  will  you  not?” 

Paul  offered  his  arm. 

“ No,  thank  you,”  said  she. 

The  door  was  just  closing;  Jean  was  no  longer  there. 
Bettina  ran  across  the  room.  Paul  remained  alone,  much 
surprised,  understanding  nothing  of  what  had  passed. 

Jean  was  already  at  the  hall  door,  when  he  heard 
some  one  call,  “ M.  Jean!  M.  Jean!” 

He  stopped  and  turned.  She  was  near  him. 

“You  are  going  without  wishing  me  good-by?” 

“I  beg  your  pardon;  I am  very  tired.” 

“ Then  you  must  not  walk  home,  the  weather  is 
threatening,”  she  extended  her  hand  out  of  doors ; “ it 
is  raining  already ! ” 

“ Come  and  have  a cup  of  tea  in  the  little  drawing-room, 
and  I will  tell  them  to  drive  you  home;”  and  turning 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


1 68 


towards  one  of  the  footmen,  “ tell  them  to  send  a carriage 
round  directly.” 

“ No,  Miss  Percival,  pray  ! the  open  air  will  revive  me.  I 
must  walk;  let  me  go.” 

“ Go,  then;  but  you  have  no  great-coat.  Take  some- 
thing to  wrap  yourself  in.” 

“ I shall  not  be  cold,  while  you  with  that  open  dress  — 
I shall  go  to  oblige  you  to  go  in.”  And  without  even 
offering  his  hand,  he  ran  quickly  down  the  steps. 

“ If  I touch  her  hand,”  he  thought,  “ I am  lost;  my  secret 
will  escape  me.” 

His  secret ! He  did  not  know  that  Bettina  read  his 
heart  like  an  open  book. 

When  Jean  had  descended  the  steps,  he  hesitated  one 
short  moment;  these  words  were  upon  his  lips, — 

“ I love  you,  I adore  you,  and  that  is  why  I will  see  you 
no  more  ! ” 

But  he  did  not  utter  these  words;  he  fled  away  and  was 
soon  lost  in  the  darkness. 

Bettina  remained  there  against  the  brilliant  background 
made  by  the  light  from  the  hall.  Great  drops  of  rain  driven 
by  the  wind  swept  across  her  bare  shoulders  and  made 
her  shiver.  She  took  no  notice ; she  distinctly  heard  her 
heart  beat. 

“ I knew  very  well  that  he  loved  me,”  she  thought;  “ but 
now  I am  very  sure  that  I too  — oh,  yes  ! I too  — ” 

All  at  once  in  one  of  the  great  mirrors  in  the  hall  door 
she  saw  the  reflection  of  the  two  footmen  who  stood  there 
motionless  near  the  oak  table  in  the  hall.  Bettina  heard 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


169 


bursts  of  laughter  and  the  strains  of  the  waltz;  she  stopped. 
She  wished  to  be  alone,  completely  alone ; and  addressing 
one  of  the  servants  she  said,  — 

“ Go  and  tell  your  mistress  that  I am  very  tired,  and 
have  gone  to  my  own  room.” 

Annie,  her  maid,  had  fallen  asleep  in  an  easy-chair. 
She  sent  her  away.  She  would  undress  herself.  She  let 
herself  sink  on  a couch ; she  was  oppressed  with  delicious 
emotion. 

The  door  of  her  room  opened ; it  was  Mrs.  Scott. 

“ You  are  not  well,  Bettina?  ” 

“Oh,  Suzie  ! is  it  you,  my  Suzie?  how  nice  of  you  to 
come  ! Sit  here,  close  to  me,  quite  close  to  me.” 

She  hid  herself  like  a child  in  the  arms  of  her  sister, 
caressing  with  her  burning  brow  Suzie’s  fresh  shoulders. 
Then  she  suddenly  burst  into  sobs,  great  sobs,  which 
stifled,  suffocated  her. 

“ Bettina,  my  darling,  what  is  the  matter?  ” 

“ Nothing,  nothing  ! it  is  nothing ; it  is  joy  — joy  ! ” 

“ Joy?  ” 

“Yes,  yes,  wait;  let  me  cry  a little,  it  will  do  me 
so  much  good.  But  do  not  be  frightened ; do  not  be 
frightened.” 

Beneath  her  sister’s  caress,  Bettina  grew  calm,  soothed. 

“ It  is  over;  I am  better  now,  and  I can  talk  to  you.  It 
is  about  Jean.” 

“ Jean  ! You  call  him  Jean?  ” 

“ Yes,  I call  him  Jean.  Have  you  not  noticed  for  some 
time  that  he  was  dull  and  looked  quite  melancholy?” 


170 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


“ Yes,  I have.” 

“ When  he  came,  he  went  and  posted  himself  near  you, 
and  stayed  there,  silent,  absorbed,  to  such  a degree  that 
for  several  days  I asked  myself — pardon  me  for  speaking 
to  you  with  , such  frankness,  it  is  my  way,  you  know — I 
asked  myself  if  it  were  not  you  whom  he  loved,  Suzie ; you 
are  so  charming,  it  would  have  been  so  natural ! But  no, 
it  was  not  you,  it  was  I ! ” 

“ You  ! ” 

“ Yes,  I.  Listen:  he  scarcely  dared  to  look  at  me;  he 
avoided  me ; he  fled  from  me ; he  was  afraid  of  me,  evi- 
dently afraid.  Now,  in  justice,  am  I a person  to  inspire 
fear?  I am  sure  I am  not!” 

“ Certainly  not ! ” 

“ Ah  ! it  was  not  I of  whom  he  was  afraid,  it  was  my 
money,  my  horrid  money ! This  money  which  attracts 
all  the  others  and  tempts  them  so  much,  — this  money 
terrifies  him,  drives  him  desperate  because  he  is  not  like 
the  others,  because  he  — ” 

“ My  child,  take  care,  perhaps  you  are  mistaken.” 

“ Oh,  no,  I am  not  mistaken.  Just  now,  at  the  door, 
when  he  was  going  away  he  said  some  words  to  me. 
These  words  were  nothing.  But  if  you  had  seen  his  dis- 
tress in  spite  of  all  his  efforts  to  control  it ! Suzie,  dear 
Suzie,  by  the  affection  which  I bear  you  (and  God  knows 
how  great  is  that  affection),  this  is  my  conviction,  my  abso- 
lute conviction,  - — if  instead  of  being  Miss  Percival  I had 
been  a poor  little  girl  without  a penny,  Jean  would  then 
have  taken  my  hand,  and  have  told  me  that  he  loved  me ; 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


171 


and  if  he  had  spoken  to  me  thus,  do  you  know  what  I 
should  have  replied?” 

“ That  you  loved  him  too?  ” 

“ Yes;  and  that  is  why  I am  so  happy.  With  me  it  is  a 
fixed  idea  that  I must  adore  the  man  who  will  be  my  hus- 
band. Well!  I don’t  say  that  I adore  Jean,  no,  not  yet; 
but  still  it  is  beginning,  Suzie,  and  it  is  beginning  so 
sweetly.” 

“ Bettina,  it  really  makes  me  uneasy  to  see  you  in  this 
state  of  excitement.  I do  not  deny  that  M.  Reynaud  is 
much  attached  to  you  — ” 

“ Oh  ! more  than  that,  more  than  that ! ” 

“ Loves  you,  if  you  like ; yes,  you  are  right,  you  are 
quite  right.  He  loves  you ; and  are  you  not  worthy,  my 
darling,  of  all  the  love  that  one  can  bear  you?  As  to  Jean, 
— it  is  progressing  decidedly,  here  am  I also  calling  him 
Jean,  — well ! you  know  what  I think  of  him.  I rank  him 
very,  very,  high.  But  in  spite  of  that,  is  he  really  a suita- 
ble husband  for  you?” 

“ Yes,  if  I love  him.” 

“I  am  trying  to  talk  sensibly  to  you,  and  you  on  the 
contrary — Understand  me,  Bettina;  I have  an  experience 
of  the  world  which  you  cannot  have.  Since  our  arrival 
in  Paris  we  have  been  launched  into  a very  brilliant,  very 
animated,  very  aristocratic  society.  You  might  have  been 
already,  if  you  had  liked,  marchioness  or  princess.” 

“ Yes,  but  I did  not  like.” 

“ It  would  not  matter  to  you  to  be  called  Madame 
Reynaud?  ” 


1 72 


The  Abbe  Constantin. 


“ Not  in  the  least,  if  I love  him.” 

“ Ah  ! you  return  always  to  — ” 

“ Because  that  is  the  true  question.  There  is  no  other. 
Now  I will  be  sensible  in  my  turn.  This  question  — I 
grant  that  this  is  not  quite  settled,  and  that  I have  perhaps 
allowed  myself  to  be  too  easily  persuaded.  You  see  how 
sensible  I am.  Jean  is  going  away  to-morrow;  I shall  not 
see  him  again  for  three  weeks.  During  these  three  weeks 
I shall  have  ample  time  to  question  myself,  to  examine 
myself,  — in  a word,  to  know  my  own  mind.  Under  my 
giddy  manner,  I am  serious  and  thoughtful ; you  know 
that?  ” 

“ Oh,  yes,  I know  it.” 

“ Well,  I will  make  this  petition  to  you,  as  I would  have 
addressed  it  to  our  mother  had  she  been  here.  If  in  three 
weeks  I say  to  you,  ‘ Suzie,  I am  certain  that  I love  him,’ 
will  you  allow  me  to  go  to  him  myself,  quite  alone,  and 
ask  him  if  he  will  have  me  for  his  wife?  That  is  what  you 
did  with  Richard.  Tell  me,  Suzie,  will  you  allow  me?  ” 

“ Yes,  I will  allow  you.” 

Bettina  embraced  her  sister,  and  murmured  these  words 
in  her  ear,  — 

“ Thank  you,  mamma.” 

“ Mamma,  mamma!  It  was  thus  that  you  used  to  call 
me  when  you  were  a child,  when  we  were  alone  in  the  world 
together,  when  I used  to  undress  you  in  our  poor  room  in 
New  York,  when  I held  you  in  my  arms,  when  I laid  you 
in  your  little  bed,  when  I sang  you  to  sleep.  And  since 
then,  Bettina,  I have  had  only  one  desire  in  the  world,  — 


UBRfin* 


The  Abbe  Constantin. 


1 75 


J VfV 


your  happiness.  That  is  why  I beg  you  to  reflect  well. 
Do  not  answer  me ; do  not  let  us  talk  any  more  of  that.  I 
wish  to  leave  you  very  calm,  very  tranquil.  You  have  sent 
away  Annie ; would  you  like  me  to  be  your  little  mamma 
again  to-night,  to  undress  you,  and  put  you  to  bed  as  I 
used  to  do?” 

“ Yes,  I should  like  it  very  much.” 

“ And  when  you  are  in  bed,  you  promise  me  to  be  very 
good?  ” 

“ As  good  as  an  angel.” 

“ You  will  do  your  best  to  go  to  sleep?  ” 

“ My  very  best.” 

“ Very  quietly,  without  thinking  of  anything?” 

“ Very  quietly,  without  thinking  of  anything.” 

“ Very  well,  then. 

Ten  minutes  after,  Bettina’s  pretty  head  rested  gently 
amid  embroideries  and  lace.  Suzie  said  to  her  sister,  — 

“ I am  going  down  to  those  people,  who  bore  me  dread- 
fully this  evening.  Before  going  to  my  own  room,  I shall 
come  back  and  see  if  you  are  asleep.  Do  not  speak.  Go 
to  sleep.” 

She  went  away.  Bettina  remained  alone.  She  tried  to 
keep  her  word;  she  endeavored  to  go  to  sleep,  but  only 
half  succeeded.  She  fell  into  a half-slumber,  which  left  her 
floating  between  dream  and  reality.  She  had  promised  to 
think  of  nothing,  and  yet  she  thought  of  him,  — always  of 
him,  of  nothing  but  him,  — vaguely,  confusedly. 

How  long  a time  passed  thus  she  could  not  tell. 

All  at  once  it  seemed  to  her  that  some  one  was  walking  in 


176 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


her  room ; she  half  opened  her  eyes,  and  thought  she 
recognized  her  sister.  In  a very  sleepy  voice  she  said  to 
her,  “ You  know  I love  him.” 

“ Hush  ! Go  to  sleep.” 

“ I am  asleep  ! I am  asleep  ! ” 

At  last  she  did  fall  sound  asleep,  less  profoundly,  how- 
ever, than  usual,  for  about  four  o’clock  in  the  morning  she 
was  suddenly  awoke  by  a noise,  which  the  night  before 
would  not  have  disturbed  her  slumber.  The  rain  fell  in 
torrents,  and  beat  against  her  window. 

“ Oh,  it  is  raining!  ” she  thought;  “ he  will  get  wet!  ” 
That  was  her  first  thought.  She  rose,  crossed  the  room 
barefooted,  half  opened  the  shutters.  The  day  had  broken, 
gray  and  lowering;  the  clouds  were  heavy  with  rain,  the  wind 
blew  tempestuously,  and  drove  the  rain  in  gusts  before  it. 

Bettina  did  not  go  back  to  bed;  she  felt  it  would  be  quite 
impossible  to  sleep  again.  She  put  on  a dressing-gown 
and  remained  at  the  window;  she  watched  the  falling  rain. 
Since  he  positively  must  go,  she  would  have  liked  the 
weather  to  be  fine;  she  would  have  liked  bright  sunshine 
to  have  cheered  his  first  day’s  march. 

When  she  came  to  Longueval  a month  ago,  Bettina  did 
not  know  what  this  meant;  but  she  knew  it  now.  A day’s 
march  for  the  artillery  is  twenty  or  thirty  miles,  with  an 
hour’s  halt  for  luncheon.  It  was  the  Abbe  Constantin  who 
had  taught  her  that.  When  going  their  rounds  in  the  morn- 
ing among  the  poor,  Bettina  overwhelmed  the  Cure  with 
questions  on  military  affairs,  and  particularly  on  the  artillery. 
Twenty  or  thirty  miles  under  this  pouring  rain  ! Poor 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


177 


Jean  ! Bettina  thought  of  young  Turner,  young  Norton,  of 
Paul  de  Lavardens,  who  would  sleep  calmly  till  ten  in  the 
morning,  while  Jean  was  exposed  to  this  deluge. 

Paul  de  Lavardens ! 

This  name  awoke  in  her  a painful  memory,  — the  memory 
of  that  waltz  the  evening  before.  To  have  danced  like  that, 
while  Jean  was  so  obviously  in  trouble  ! That  waltz  took 
the  proportions  of  a crime  in  her  eyes;  it  was  a horrible 
thing  that  she  had  done. 

And  then,  had  she  not  been  wanting  in  courage  and  frank- 
ness in  that  last  interview  with  Jean?  He  neither  could  nor 
dared  say  anything ; but  she  might  have  shown  more  ten- 
derness, more  expansiveness.  Sad  and  suffering  as  he  was, 
she  should  never  have  allowed  him  to  go  back  on  foot. 
She  ought  to  have  detained  him  at  any  price.  Her  imagi- 
nation tormented  and  excited  her;  Jean  must  have  carried 
away  with  him  the  impression  that  she  was  a bad  little 
creature,  heartless  and  pitiless.  And  in  half  an  hour  he 
was  going  away,  away  for  three  weeks  ! Ah,  if  she  could 
by  any  means  — but  there  was  a way  ! The  regiment  must 
pass  along  the  wall  of  the  park,  under  the  terrace. 

Bettina  was  seized  with  a wild  desire  to  see  Jean  pass;  he 
would  understand  well  if  he  saw  her  at  such  an  hour  that 
she  had  come  to  beg  his  pardon  for  her  cruelty  of  the  pre- 
vious evening.  Yes,  she  would  go  ! But  she  had  prom- 
ised to  Suzie  to  be  as  good  as  an  angel ; and  to  do  what 
she  was  going  to  do,  was  that  being  as  good  as  an  angel? 
She  would  make  up  for  it  by  acknowledging  all  to  Suzie 
when  she  came  in  again ; and  Suzie  would  forgive  her. 


12 


1 7S 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


She  would  go  ! She  had  made  up  her  mind.  Only  how 
should  she  dress  herself  ? She  had  nothing  at  hand  but  a 
muslin  dressing-gown,  little  high-heelled  mules , and  blue 
satin  shoes.  She  might  wake  her  maid.  Oh  ! never  would 
she  dare  to  do  that,  and  time  pressed.  A quarter  to  five ! 
the  regiment  would  start  at  five  o’clock. 

She  might  perhaps  manage  with  the  muslin  dressing- 
gown  and  the  satin  slippers ; in  the  hall  she  might  find  her 
hat,  her  little  sabots  which  she  wore  in  the  garden,  and  the 
large  tartan  cloak  for  driving  in  wet  weather.  She  half 
opened  her  door  with  infinite  precautions.  Everything 
slept  in  the  house.  She  crept  along  the  corridor;  she  de- 
scended the  staircase. 

If  only  the  little  sabots  are  there  in  their  place;  that  is 
her  great  anxiety.  There  they  are  ! She  slips  them  on  over 
her  thin  satin  shoes ; she  wraps  herself  in  her  great  mantle. 

She  hears  that  the  rain  has  redoubled  in  violence.  She 
notices  one  of  those  large  umbrellas  which  the  footmen  use 
on  the  box  in  wet  weather;  she  seizes  it;  she  is  ready.  But 
when  she  is  ready  to  go  she  sees  that  the  hall  door  is 
fastened  by  a great  iron  bar.  She  tries  to  raise  it ; but  the 
bolt  holds  fast,  resists  all  her  efforts,  and  the  great  clock 
in  the  hall  slowly  strikes  five.  He  is  starting  at  that 
moment. 

She  will  see  him  ! she  will  see  him  ! Her  will  is  excited 
by  these  obstacles.  She  makes  a great  effort;  the  bar 
yields,  slips  back  in  the  groove.  But  Bettina  has  made  a 
long  scratch  on  her  hand,  from  which  issues  a slender 
stream  of  blood.  Bettina  twists  her  handkerchief  round 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


1 8 1 


her  hand,  takes  her  great  umbrella,  turns  the  key  in  the 
lock,  and  opens  the  door. 

At  last  she  is  out  of  the  house  ! 

The  weather  is  frightful;  the  wind  and  the  rain  rage 
together.  It  takes  five  or  six  minutes  to  reach  the  terrace 
which  looks  over  the  road.  Bettina  darts  forward  cour- 
ageously; her  head  bent,  hidden  under  her  immense  um- 
brella, she  has  taken  a fe^y  j steps.  All  at  once,  furious, 
mad,  blinding,  a sudden  sgffallj  bursts  upon  Bettina,  buries 
her  in  her  mantle,  drives  her  aiong,  lifts  her  almost  from  the 
ground,  turns  the  umbrella  violently  inside  out.  That  is 
nothing;  the  disaster  is  not  yet  complete. 

Bettina  has  lost  one  of  her  little  sabots . They  were  not 
practical  sabots;  they  were  only  pretty  little  things  for  fine 
weather.  And  at  this  moment,  when  Bettina  struggles 
against  the  tempest  with  her  blue  satin  shoe  half  buried 
in  the  wet  gravel,  at  this  moment  the  wind  bears  to  her 
the  distant  echo  of  a blast  of  trumpets.  It  is  the  regi- 
ment starting ! 

Bettina  makes  a desperate  effort,  abandons  her  um- 
brella, finds  her  little  sabot , fastens  it  on  as  well  as  she 
can,  and  starts  off  running,  with  a deluge  descending  on 
her  head. 

At  last  she  is  in  the  woods ; the  trees  protect  her  a little. 
Another  blast,  nearer  this  time.  Bettina  fancies  she  hears 
the  rolling  of  the  gun-carriages.  She  makes  a last  effort. 
There  is  the  terrace;  she  is  there  just  in  time. 

Twenty  yards  off  she  perceived  the  white  horses  of  the 
trumpeters;  and  along  the  road  she  caught  glimpses, 


182 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


vaguely  appearing  through  the  fog,  of  the  long  line  of 
guns  and  wagons. 

She  sheltered  herself  under  one  of  the  old  limes  which 
bordered  the  terrace.  She  watched;  she  waited.  He  is 
there  among  that  confused  mass  of  riders.  Will  she  be 
able  to  recognize  him?  And  he,  will  he  see  her?  Will 
any  chance  make  him  turn  his  head  that  way? 

Bettina  knows  that  he  is  lieutenant  in  the  second  battery 
of  his  regiment;  she  knows  that  a battery  is  composed  of 
six  guns  and  six  ammunition-wagons.  Of  course  it  is  the 
Abbe  Constantin  who  has  taught  her  that.  Thus  she  must 
allow  the  first  battery  to  pass  (that  is  to  say,  count  six  guns, 
six  wagons),  and  then  — he  will  be  there. 

There  he  is  at  last,  wrapped  in  his  great  cloak;  and  it  is 
he  who  sees,  who  recognizes  her  first.  A few  moments 
before  he  had  recalled  to  his  mind  a long  walk  which  he  had 
taken  with  her  one  evening,  when  night  was  falling,  on  that 
terrace.  He  raised  his  eyes,  and  the  very  spot  where  he 
remembered  having  seen  her  was  the  spot  where  he  found 
her  again.  He  bowed;  and  bareheaded  in  the  rain,  turning 
round  in  his  saddle,  as  long  as  he  could  see  her,  he  looked 
at  her.  He  said  again  to  himself  what  he  had  said  the 
previous  evening,  “ It  is  for  the  last  time.” 

With  a charming  gesture  of  both  hands,  she  returned  his 
farewell ; and  this  gesture,  repeated  many  times,  brought  her 
hands  so  near,  so  near  her  lips,  that  one  might  have 
fancied  — * “ Ah  ! ” she  thought,  “ if  after  that  he  does  not 

understand  that  I love  him,  and  does  not  forgive  me  my 
money?  ” 


OfTHE 

U'AHISITYlSF  m, , 


Vc*  V& 

CHAPTER  IX. 

TT  was  the  tenth  of  August,  the  day  which  should 
^ bring  Jean  back  to  Longueval. 

Bettina  woke  very  early,  rose,  and  ran  immediately  to 
the  window.  The  evening  before,  the  sky  had  looked 
threatening,  heavy  with  clouds.  Bettina  slept  but  little, 
and  all  night  prayed  that  it  might  not  rain  the  next 
day. 

In  the  early  morning  a dense  fog  enveloped  the  park 
of  Longueval,  the  trees  of  which  were  hidden  from  view 
as  by  a curtain.  But  gradually  the  rays  of  the  sun  dis- 
sipated the  mist;  the  trees  became  vaguely  discernible 
through  the  vapor.  Then,  suddenly,  the  sun  shone  bril- 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


1 86 

liantly,  flooding  with  light  the  park  and  the  fields  be- 
yond ; and  the  lake  where  the  black  swans  were  disport- 
ing themselves  in  the  radiant  light  appeared  as  bright 
as  a sheet  of  polished  metal. 

The  weather  was  going  to  be  beautiful.  Bettina  is  a 
little  superstitious.  The  sunshine  gives  her  good  hope  and 
good  courage.  “ The  day  begins  well,  so  it  will  finish  well.” 
Mr.  Scott  came  home  some  days  ago.  Suzie,  Bettina, 
and  the  children  waited  on  the  quay  at  Havre  for  the 
arrival  of  his  steamer. 

They  exchanged  many  tender  embraces,  then  Richard, 
addressing  his  sister-in-law,  said  laughingly,  — 

“Well,  when  is  the  wedding  to  be?” 

“ What  wedding?  ” 

“ Yours.” 

“ My  wedding?  ” 

“ Yes,  certainly.” 

“And  to  whom  am  I going  to  be  married?” 

“To  M.  Jean  Reynaud.” 

“Ah!  Suzie  has  written  to  you?” 

“Suzie?  Not  at  all  Suzie  has  not  said  a word.  It 
is  you,  Bettina,  who  have  written  to  me.  For  the  last 
two  months,  all  your  letters  have  been  occupied  with 
this  young  officer.” 

“All  my  letters?” 

“Yes;  and  you  have  written  to  me  oftener  and  more 
at  length  than  usual.  I do  not  complain  of  that;  but 
I do  ask  when  you  are  going  to  present  me  with  a 
brother-in-law?  ” 


1 


UBRM< 

r ^Rsrf/  of  nnv  * 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


189 


He  spoke  jestingly,  but  Bettina  replied,  — 

“ Soon,  I hope.” 

Mr.  Scott  perceives  that  the  affair  is  serious.  When 
returning  in  the  carriage,  Bettina  asks  Mr.  Scott  if  he 
has  kept  her  letters. 

“ Certainly,”  he  replies. 

She  reads  them  again.  It  is  indeed  only  with  “Jean” 
that  all  these  letters  have  been  filled.  She  finds  therein 
related,  down  to  the  most  trifling  details,  their  first 
meeting.  There  is  the  portrait  of  Jean  in  the  vicarage 
garden,  with  his  straw  hat  and  his  earthenware  salad- 
dish;  and  then  it  is  again  M.  Jean,  always  M.  Jean. 

She  discovers  that  she  has  loved  him  much  longer 
than  she  had  suspected. 

Now  it  is  the  tenth  of  August.  Luncheon  is  just  over, 
and  Harry  and  Bella  are  impatient.  They  know  that  be- 
tween one  and  two  o’clock  the  regiment  must  go  through 

the  village.  They  have  been  proMf^M  that  they  shall  be 

0 

taken  to  see  the  soldiers  pass,  knd  for  them  as  well  as  for 
Bettina,  the  return  of  the  Ninth  Artillery  is  a great  event. 

“ Aunt  Betty,”  said  Bella,  “ Aunt  Betty,  come  with  us.” 

“Yes,  do  come,”  said  Harry,  “do  come;  we  shall  see 
our  friend  Jean,  on  his  big  gray  horse.” 

Bettina  resisted,  refused ; and  yet  how  great  was  the 
temptation ! 

But  no,  she  would  not  go;  she  would  not  see  Jean 
again  till  the  evening,  when  she  would  give  him  that  de- 
cisive explanation  for  which  she  had  been  preparing  her- 
self for  the  last  three  weeks. 


The  Abbe  Constantin. 


190 


The  children  went  away  with  their  governesses.  Bet- 
tina,  Suzie,  and  Richard  went  to  sit  in  the  park,  quite 
close  to  the  castle,  and  as  soon  as  they  were  established 
there,  “ Suzie,”  said  Bettina,  “ I am  going  to  remind  you 
to-day  of  your  promise.  You  remember  what  passed  be- 
tween us  the  night  of  his  departure:  we  settled  that  if 

on  the  day  of  his  return,  I could  say  to  you,  ‘ Suzie,  I 
am  sure  that  I love  him/  — we  settled  that  you  would 
allow  me  to  speak  frankly  to  him,  and  ask  him  if  he 
would  have  me  for  his  wife.” 

“Yes,  I did  promise  you.  But  are  you  very  sure?” 

“ Absolutely ; and  now  the  time  has  come  to  redeem 
your  promise.  I warn  you  that  I intend  to.  bring  him 
to  this  very  place,”  she  added,  smiling,  “to  this  seat; 
and  to  use  almost  the  same  language  to  him  that  you 
formerly  used  to  Richard.  You  were  successful,  Suzie; 
you  are  perfectly  happy,  and  I — that  is  what  I wish 
to  be. 

“Richard,  Suzie  has  told  you  about  M.  Reynaud?” 

“ Yes,  and  she  has  told  me  that  there  is  no  man  of 
whom  she  has  a higher  opinion,  but  — ” 

“ But  she  has  told  you  that  for  me  it  would  be  a rather 
quiet,  rather  commonplace  marriage.  Oh,  naughty  sis- 
ter! Will  you  believe  it,  Richard,  that  I cannot  get  this 
fear  out  of  her  head?  She  does  not  understand  that  be- 
fore everything  I wish  to  love  and  be  loved.  Will  you 
believe  it,  Richard,  that  only  last  week  she  laid  a hor- 
rible trap  for  me?  You  know  that  there  exists  a certain 
Prince  Romanelli?” 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


191 


“ Yes,  I know  you  might  have  been  a princess/' 

“ That  would  not  have  been  immensely  difficult,  I be- 
lieve. Well,  one  day  I was  so  foolish  as  to  say  to 
Suzie  that  in  extremity  I might  accept  the  Prince  Ro- 
manelli.  Now,  just  imagine  what  she  did?  The  Turners 
were  at  Trouville;  Suzie  had  arranged  a little  plot.  We 
lunched  with  the  Prince,  but  the  result  was  disastrous. 
Accept  him ! The  two  hours  that  I passed  with  him  I 
passed  in  asking  myself  how  I could  have  said  such  a 
thing.  No,  Richard ; no,  Suzie.  I will  be  neither  prin- 
cess nor  marchioness  nor  countess.  My  wish  is  to  be 
Madame  Jean  Reynaud,  — if,  however,  M.  Jean  Reynaud 
will  agree  to  it,  and  that  is  by  no  means  certain.” 

The  regiment  entered  the  village,  and  suddenly  mili- 
tary music  burst  martial  and  joyous  across  the  space. 
All  three  remained  silent.  It  was  the  regiment,  it  was 
Jean  who  passed.  The  sound  became  fainter,  died  away; 
and  Bettina  continued, — 

“ No,  that  is  not  certain.  He  loves  me,  however,  and 
much,  but  without  knowing  well  what  I am  ; I think  that 
I deserve  to  be  loved  differently.  I think  that  I should 
not  cause  him  so  much  terror,  so  much  fear,  if  he  knew 
me  better;  and  that  is  why  I ask  you  to  permit  me  to 
speak  to  him  this  evening  freely,  from  my  heart.” 

“We  will  allow  you,”  replied  Richard;  “you  shall 
speak  to  him  freely,  for  we  know,  both  of  us,  Bettina, 
that  you  will  never  do  anything  but  what  is  noble  and 
generous.” 

“At  least,  I will  try.” 


4 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


1 92 

The  children  ran  up  to  them.  They  had  seen  Jean;  he 
was  quite  white  with  dust;  he  said  good-morning  to  them. 

“ Only,”  added  Bella,  “he  is  not  very  nice;  he  did  not 
stop  to  talk  to  us.  Generally  he  stops,  and  this  time  he 
would  n’t.” 

“ Yes,  he  would,”  replied  Harry;  “ for  at  first  he  seemed  . 
as  if  he  were  going  to.  And  then  he  would  not;  he  went 
away.” 

“ Well,  he  did  n’t  stop,  and  it  is  so  nice  to  talk  to  a 
soldier,  especially  when  he  is  on  horseback.” 

“ It  is  not  that  only,  it  is  that  we  are  very  fond  of 
M.  Jean;  if  you  knew,  papa,  how  kind  he  is,  and  how 
nicely  he  plays  with  us.” 

“ And  what  beautiful  drawings  he  makes.  Harry,  you 
remember  that  great  Punch  who  was  so  funny,  with  his 
stick,  you  know?” 

“ And  the  dog,  there  was  the  little  dog  too,  as  in  the 
show.” 

The  two  children  went  away  talking  of  their  friend  Jean. 

“ Decidedly,”  said  Mr.  Scott,  “ every  one  likes  him  in  this 
house.” 

“ And  you  will  be  like  every  one  else  when  you  know 
him,”  replied  Bettina. 

The  regiment  broke  into  a trot  along  the  high-road  after 
leaving  the  village.  There  was  the  terrace  where  Bettina 
had  been  the  other  morning.  Jean  said  to  himself,  “ Sup- 
posing she  should  be  there.” 

He  dreads  and  hopes  it  at  the  same  time.  He  raises 
his  head ; he  looks.  She  is  not  there. 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


193 


He  has  not  seen  her  again,  he  will  not  see  her  again,  for 
a long  time  at  least.  He  will  start  that  very  evening  at 
six  o’clock  for  Paris.  One  of  the  personages  in  the  War 
Office  is  interested  in  him;  he  will  try  to  get  exchanged 
into  another  regiment. 

Alone  at  Cercottes,  Jean  has  had  time  to  reflect  deeply, 
and  this  is  the  result  of  his  reflections,  — he  cannot,  he  must 
not  be  Bettina  Percival’s  husband. 

The  men  dismount  at  the  barracks  ; Jean  takes  leave  of  his 
colonel,  his  comrades;  all  is  over.  He  is  free;  he  can  go. 

But  he  does  not  go  yet;  he  looks  around  him.  How 
happy  he  was  three  months  ago,  when  he  rode  out  of  that 
great  yard  amid  the  noise  of  the  cannon  rolling  over  the 
pavement  of  Souvigny ; but  how  sadly  he  would  ride  away 
to-day!  Formerly  his  life  was  there;  where  would  it  be 
now? 

He  returns;  he  goes  to  his  own  room.  He  writes  to  Mrs. 
Scott;  he  tells  her  that  his  duties  oblige  him  to  leave 
immediately;  he  cannot  dine  at  the  castle,  and  begs  Mrs. 
Scott  to  remember  him  to  Miss  Bettina.  Bettina,  ah,  what 
trouble  it  cost  him  to  write  that  name  ! He  closes  his  letter; 
he  will  send  it  directly. 

He  makes  his  preparations  for  departure;  then  he  will 
go  to  wish  his  godfather  farewell.  That  is  what  cost  him 
most;  he  will  only  speak  to  him  of  a short  absence. 

He  opens  one  of  the  drawers  of  his  bureau  to  take  out 
some  money.  The  first  thing  that  meets  his  eyes  is  a little 
note  on  bluish  paper;  it  is  the  only  note  which  he  has  ever 
received  from  her. 


*94 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


Will  you  have  the  kindness  to  give  to  the  servant  the  book  of 
which  you  spoke  yesterday  evening?  Perhaps  it  will  be  a little 
serious  for  me,  but  yet  I should  like  to  try  to  read  it.  We  shall 
see  you  to-night ; come  as  early  as  possible. 

Bettina. 

Jean  read  and  re-read  these  few  lines,  but  soon  he  could 
read  them  no  longer;  his  eyes  were  dim. 

“ It  is  all  that  is  left  me  of  her,”  he  thought. 

At  the  same  moment  the  Abbe  Constantin  was  tete-a-tete 
with  old  Pauline ; they  were  making  up  their  accounts. 
The  financial  situation  is  admirable,  — more  than  two  thou- 
sand francs  in  hand  ! And  the  wishes  of  Suzie  and  Bettina 
are  accomplished ; there  are  no  more  poor  in  the  neigh- 
borhood. His  old  servant,  Pauline,  has  even  occasional 
scruples  of  conscience. 

“ You  see,  Monsieur  le  Cure,”  said  she,  “ perhaps  we 
give  them  a little  too  much.  Then  it  will  be  spread  about 
in  other  parishes  that  here  they  can  always  find  charity. 
And  do  you  know  what  will  happen  then  one  of  these  days? 
Poor  people  will  come  and  settle  at  Longueval.” 

The  Cure  gave  fifty  francs  to  Pauline.  She  went  away 
to  take  them  to  a poor  man  who  had  broken  his  arm  a few 
days  before  by  falling  from  the  top  of  a hay-cart. 

The  Abbe  Constantin  remained  alone  in  the  vicarage. 
He  is  rather  anxious.  He  has  watched  for  the  passing  of 
the  regiment.  But  Jean  only  stopped  for  a moment;  he 
looked  sad.  For  some  time  the  Abbe  had  noticed  that 
Jean  had  no  longer  the  flow  of  good-humor  and  gayety  he 
once  possessed. 


The  4 bbe  Constantin . 


*95 


The  Cure  did  not  disturb  himself  too  much  about  it, 
believing  it  to  be  one  of  those  little  youthful  troubles  which 
did  not  concern  a poor  old  priest.  But  on  this  occasion 
Jean’s  disturbance  was  very  perceptible. 

“ I will  come  back  directly,”  he  said  to  the  Cure;  “ I 
want  to  speak  to  you.” 

He  turned  abruptly  away.  The  Abbe  Constantin  had 
not  even  had  time  to  give  Loulou  his  piece  of  sugar,  or 
rather  his  pieces  of  sugar,  for  he  had  put  five  or  six  in  his 
pocket,  considering  that  Loulou  had  well  deserved  this  feast 
by  ten  long  days’  march,  and  a score  of  nights  passed  under 
the  open  sky. 

Besides,  since  Mrs.  Scott  had  lived  at  Longueval  Loulou 
had  very  often  had  several  pieces  of  sugar;  the  Abbe 
Constantin  had  become  extravagant,  prodigal.  He  felt  him- 
self a millionnaire ; the  sugar  for  Loulou  was  one  of  his 
follies.  One  day  even  he  had  been  on  the  point  of  address- 
ing to  Loulou  his  everlasting  little  speech,  — 

“ This  comes  from  the  new  mistresses  of  Longueval ; 
pray  for  them  to-night.” 

It  was  three  o’clock  when  Jean  arrived  at  the  vicarage; 
and  the  Cure  said  immediately,  — 

“ You  told  me  that  you  wanted  to  speak  to  me;  what  is 
it  about?  ” 

“ About  something,  my  dear  godfather,  which  will  sur- 
prise you,  will  grieve  you  — ” 

“ Grieve  me  ! ” 

“ Yes,  and  which  grieves  me  too.  I have  come  to  bid 
you  farewell.” 


ig6 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


“ Farewell ! you  are  going  away?  ” 

“ Yes,  I am  going  away.” 

"When?” 

“ To-day,  in  two  hours.” 

“ In  two  hours?  But,  my  dear  boy,  we  were  going  to 
dine  at  the  castle  to-night.” 

“ I have  just  written  to  Mrs.  Scott  to  excuse  me.  I am 
positively  obliged  to  go.” 

“ Directly?  ” 

“ Directly.” 

“ And  where  are  you  going?  ” 

“ To  Paris.” 

“ To  Paris  ! Why  this  sudden  determination?  ” 

“ Not  so  very  sudden ! I have  thought  about  it  for  a 
long  time.” 

“ And  you  have  said  nothing  about  it  to  me ! Jean, 
something  has  happened  ! You  are  a man,  and  I have  no 
longer  the  right  to  treat  you  as  a child ; but  you  know 
how  much  I love  you.  If  you  have  vexations,  troubles, 
why  not  tell  them  to  me?  I could  perhaps  advise  you. 
Jean,  why  go  to  Paris?” 

"I  did  not  wish  to  tell  you,  it  will  give  you  pain;  but 
you  have  the  right  to  know.  I am  going  to  Paris  to  ask  to 
be  exchanged  into  another  regiment.” 

“ Into  another  regiment!  To  leave  Souvigny?” 

“ Yes,  that  is  just  it,  I must  leave  Souvigny  for  a short 
time,  — for  a little  while  only;  but  to  leave  Souvigny  is 
necessary,  — it  is  what  I wish  above  all  things.” 

“ And  what  about  me,  Jean,  do  you  not  think  of  me?  A 


The  A bbe  Constantin . 


197 


little  while  ! A little  while ! But  that  is  all  that  remains 
to  me  of  life,  — a little  while.  And  during  these  last  days, 
that  I owe  to  the  grace  of  God,  it  was  my  happiness,  — yes, 
Jean,  my  happiness,  — to  feel  you  here  near  me;  and  now 
you  are  going  away!  Jean,  wait  a little  patiently;  it  can- 
not be  for  very  long  now.  Wait  until  the  good  God  has 
called  me  to  Himself;  wait  till  I shall  be  gone,  to  meet 
there,  at  His  side,  your  father  and  your  mother.  Do  not 
go,  Jean;  do  not  go.” 

“ If  you  love  me,  I love  you  too,  and  you  know  it  well.” 

“ Yes,  I know  it.” 

“ I have  just  the  same  affection  for  you  now  that  I had 
when  I was  quite  little,  when  you  took  me  to  yourself, 
when  you  brought  me  up.  My  heart  has  not  changed,  will 
never  change.  But  if  duty,  if  honor  oblige  me  to  go?  ” 

“ Ah  ! if  it  is  duty,  if  it  is  honor,  I say  nothing  more. 
Jean,  that  stands  before  all! — all!  — all!  I have  always 
known  you  a good  judge  of  your  duty,  your  honor.  Go, 
my  boy;  go!  I ask  you  nothing  more;  I wish  to  know 
no  more.” 

“ But  I wish  to  tell  you  all,”  cried  Jean,  vanquished  by 
his  emotion,  “ and  it  is  better  that  you  should  know  all. 
You  will  stay  here;  you  will  return  to  the  castle;  you  will 
see  her  again,  — her ! ” 

“ See  her  ! Who?  ” 

“ Bettina ! ” 

“ Bettina?  ” 

“ I adore  her!  I adore  her!  ” 

“ Oh,  my  poor  boy  ! ” 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


i 98 


“Pardon  me  for  speaking  to  you  of  these  things;  but  I 
tell  you  as  I would  have  told  my  father.  And  then,  I have 
not  been  able  to  speak  of  it  to  any  one,  and  it  stifled  me ; 
yes,  it  is  a madness  which  has  seized  me,  which  has  grown 
upon  me  little  by  little  against  my  will,  for  you  know  very 
well — My  God!  It  was  here  that  I began  to  love  her. 
You  know,  when  she  came  here  with  her  sister  — the  little 
rouleaux  of  a thousand  francs  — her  hair  fell  down  — and 
then  the  evening,  the  month  of  Mary.  Then  I was  per- 
mitted to  see  her  freely,  familiarly,  and  you  yourself  spoke 
to  me  constantly  of  her.  You  praised  her  sweetness,  her 
goodness.  How  often  have  you  told  me  that  there  was  no 
one  in  the  world  better  than  she  is  ! ” 

“ And  I thought  it,  and  I think  it  still.  And  no  one  here 
knows  her  better  than  I do,  for  it  is  I alone  who  have  seen 
her  with  the  poor.  If  you  only  knew  how  tender  and  how 
good  she  is  ! Neither  wretchedness  nor  suffering  repulse 
her.  But,  my  dear  boy,  I am  wrong  to  tell  you  all  this.” 
“No,  no,  I will  see  her  no  more,  I promise  you;  but  I 
like  to  hear  you  speak  of  her.” 

“ In  your  whole  life,  Jean,  you  will  never  meet  a better 
woman,  nor  one  who  has  more  elevated  sentiments ; to 
such  a point,  that  one  day  — she  had  taken  me  with  her  in 
an  open  carriage,  full  of  toys  — she  was  taking  these  toys  to 
a poor  little  sick  girl,  and  when  she  gave  them  to  her,  to 
make  the  poor  little  thing  laugh,  to  amuse  her,  she  talked 
so  prettily  to  her  that  I thought  of  you,  and  I said  to  myself, 
— I remember  it  now,  — ‘ Ah,  if  she  were  poor  ! ’ ” 

“ Ah  ! if  she  were  poor,  but  she  is  not,” 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


199 


“ Oh,  no  ! But  what  can  you  do,  my  poor  child  ! If  it 
gives  you  pain  to  see  her,  to  live  near  her,  — above  all,  if  it 
will  prevent  you  from  suffering,  — go,  go ; and  yet,  and 
yet  — ” 

The  old  priest  became  thoughtful,  let  his  head  fall  be- 
tween his  hands,  and  remained  silent  for  some  moments; 
then  he  continued, — 

“ And  yet,  Jean,  do  you  know  what  I think?  I have  seen 
a great  deal  of  Mademoiselle  Bettina  since  she  came  to 
Longueval.  Well,  when  I reflect,  it  did  not  astonish  me 
then  that  any  one  should  be  interested  in  you,  for  it 
seemed  so  natural;  but  she  talked  always,  yes,  always  of 
you.” 

“ Of  me?  ” 

“ Yes,  of  you,  and  of  your  father  and  mother;  she  was 
curious  to  know  how  you  lived.  She  begged  me  to  ex- 
plain to  her  what  a soldier’s  life  was,  the  life  of  a true  sol- 
dier who  loved  his  profession,  and  performed  his  duties 
conscientiously. 

“ It  is  extraordinary,  since  you  have  told  me  this,  recol- 
lections crowd  upon  me,  a thousand  little  things  collect  and 
group  themselves  together.  They  returned  from  Havre 
yesterday  at  three  o’clock.  Well ! an  hour  after  their 
arrival  she  was  here ; and  it  was  of  you  of  whom  she  spoke 
directly.  She  asked  if  you  had  written  to  me,  if  you  had 
not  been  ill,  when  you  would  arrive,  at  what  hour,  if  the 
regiment  would  pass  through  the  village.” 

“ It  is  useless  at  this  moment,  my  dear  godfather,”  said 
Jean,  “ to  recall  all  these  memories.” 


200 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


“ No,  it  is  not  useless.  She  seemed  so  pleased,  so  happy 
even,  that  she  should  see  you  again  ! She  would  make  quite 
a fete  of  the  dinner  this  evening.  She  would  introduce  you 
to  her  brother-in-law,  who  has  come  back.  There  is  no  one 
else  in  the  house  at  this  moment,  not  a single  visitor.  She 
insisted  strongly  on  this  point,  and  I remember  her  last 
words,  — she  was  there,  on  the  threshold  of  the  door,  — 

“ ‘ There  will  be  only  five  of  us,’  she  said,  — ‘ you  and 
M.  Jean,  my  sister,  my  brother-in-law,  and  myself.’ 

“ And  then  she  added,  laughing,  4 Quite  a family  party.* 
“With  these  words  she  went,  she  almost  ran  away. 
5 Quite  a family  party ! ’ Do  you  know  what  I think,  Jean? 
Do  you  know?  ” 

“ You  must  not  think  that;  you  must  not.” 

“ Jean,  I believe  that  she  loves  you  ! ” 

“ And  I believe  it  too.” 

“ You  too  ! ” 

“ When  I left  her,  three  weeks  ago,  she  was  so  agitated, 
so  moved!  She  saw  me  sad  and  unhappy;  she  would 
not  let  me  go.  It  was  at  the  door  of  the  castle.  I was 
obliged  to  tear  myself  — yes,  literally  tear  myself  — 
away.  I should  have  spoken,  burst  out,  told  her  all. 
After  having  gone  a few  steps  I stopped  and  turned. 
She  could  no  longer  see  me,  I was  lost  in  the  dark- 
ness ; but  I could  see  her.  She  stood  there  motionless, 
her  shoulders  and  arms  bare,  in  the  rain,  her  eyes  fixed 
on  the  way  by  which  I had  gone.  Perhaps  I am  mad  to 
think  that  ; perhaps  it  was  only  a feeling  of  pity.  But 
no,  it  was  something  more  than  pity,  for  do  you  know  what 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


201 


she  did  the  next  morning?  She  came  at  five  o’clock  in  the 
most  frightful  weather  to  see  me  pass  with  the  regiment ; 
and  then  — the  way  she  bade  me  adieu  — oh,  my  friend, 
my  dear  old  friend  ! ” 

“ But  then,”  said  the  poor  Cure,  completely  bewil- 
dered, completely  at  a loss, — “ but  then  I do  not  under- 
stand you  at  all.  If  you  love  her,  Jean,  and  if  she  loves 
you  — ” 

“ But  that  is,  above  all,  the  reason  why  I must  go.  If 
it  were  only  I,  — if  I were  certain  that  she  has  not  perceived 
my  love,  certain  that  she  has  not  been  touched  by  it,  — I 
would  stay,  I would  stay,  for  nothing  but  for  the  sweet  joy 
of  seeing  her;  and  I would  love  her  from  afar,  without  any 
hope,  for  nothing  but  the  happiness  of  loving  her.  But  no, 
she  has  understood  too  well,  and  far  from  discouraging  me 
— that  is  what  forces  me  to  go.” 

“ No,  I do  not  understand  it!  I know  well,  my  poor  boy, 
we  are  speaking  of  things  in  which  I am  no  great  scholar; 
but  you  are  both  good,  young,  and  charming,  You  love 
her,  she  would  love  you ; and  you  will  not ! ” 

“ And  her  money  ! her  money  ! ” 

“What  matters  her  money?  If  it  is  only  that,  is  it  be- 
cause of  her  money  that  you  have  loved  her?  It  is  rather 
in  spite  of  her  money.  Your  conscience,  my  son,  would 
be  quite  at  peace  with  regard  to  that,  and  that  would 
suffice.” 

“ No,  that  would  not  suffice.  To  have  a good  opinion  of 
one’s  self  is  not  enough ; that  opinion  must  be  shared  by 
others.” 


202 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


“ Oh,  Jean!  Among  all  who  know  you,  who  can  doubt 
you  ? ” 

“Who  knows?  And  then  there  is  another  thing  besides 
this  question  of  money,  — another  thing  more  serious  and 
more  grave.  I am  not  the  husband  suited  to  her.” 

“ And  who  could  be  more  worthy  than  you?  ” 

“The  question  to  be  considered  is  not  my  worth;  we 
have  to  consider  what  she  is  and  what  I am,  to  ask  what 
ought  to  be  her  life,  and  what  ought  to  be  my  life. 

“ One  day,  Paul  — you  know  he  has  rather  a blunt  way 
of  saying  things;  but  that  very  bluntness  often  places 
thoughts  much  more  clearly  before  us — we  were  speaking 
of  her.  Paul  did  not  suspect  anything;  if  he  had,  he  is 
good-natured,  he  would  not  have  spoken  thus.  Well!  he 
said  to  me, — 

“ 4 What  she  needs  is  a husband  who  would  be  entirely 
devoted  to  her,  to  her  alone, — a husband  who  would  have 
no  other  care  than  to  make  her  existence  a perpetual 
holiday;  a husband  who  would  give  himself,  his  whole 
life,  in  return  for  her  money.’ 

“You  know  me;  such  a husband  I cannot,  I must 
not  be.  I am  a soldier,  and  will  remain  one.  If  the 
chances  of  my  career  sent  me  some  day  to  a garrison  in 
the  depths  of  the  Alps,  or  in  some  almost  unknown  vil- 
lage in  Algeria,  could  I ask  her  to  follow  me?  Could  I 
condemn  her  to  the  life  of  a soldier’s  wife,  which  is  in 
some  degree  the  life  of  a soldier  himself?  Think  of  the 
life  which  she  leads  now,  of  all  that  luxury,  of  all  those 
pleasures ! ” 


The  Abbe  Constantin. 


203 


“ Yes,”  said  the  Abbe ; “ that  is  more  serious  than  the 
question  of  money.” 

“ So  serious  that  there  is  no  hesitation  possible.  Dur- 
ing the  three  weeks  that  I passed  alone  in  the  camp  I have 
well  considered  all  that.  I have  thought  of  nothing  else ; 
and  loving  her  as  I do  love,  the  reason  must  indeed  be 
strong  which  shows  me  clearly  my  duty.  I must  go.  I 
must  go  far,  very  far  away,  as  far  as  possible.  I shall 
suffer  much;  but  I must  not  see  her  again!  I must  not 
see  her  again  ! ” 

Jean  sank  on  a chair  near  the  fireplace.  He  remained 
there  quite  overpowered  with  his  emotion.  The  old 
priest  looked  at  him. 

“To  see  you  suffer,  my  poor  boy!  That  such  suffer- 
ing should  fall  upon  you!  It  is  too  cruel,  too  unjust!” 
v|  1 At  that  moment  some  one  knocked  gently  at  the  door. 

“Ah!”  said  the  Cure,  “do  not  be  afraid,  Jean.  I will 
send  them  away.” 

The  Abbe  went  to  the  door,  opened  it,  and  recoiled 
as  if  before  an  unexpected  apparition. 

It  was  Bettina.  In  a moment  she  had  seen  Jean,  and 
going  directly  to  him,  “ You  ! ” cried  she.  “ Oh,  how  glad 
I am!” 

He  rose.  She  took  his  hands,  and  addressing  the 
Cure,  she  said,  — 

“ I beg  your  pardon,  Monsieur  le  Cure,  for  going  to 
him  first.  You  I saw  yesterday,  and  him  not  for  three 
whole  weeks,  — not  since  a certain  night  when  he  left  our 
house,  sad  and  suffering.” 


204 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


She  still  held  Jean’s  hands.  He  had  neither  power  to 
make  a movement  nor  to  utter  a sound. 

“ And  now,”  continued  Bettina,  “ are  you  better?  No, 
not  yet,  I can  see, — still  sad.  Ah,  I have  done  well  to 
come ! It  was  an  inspiration ! However,  it  embarrasses 
me  a little,  it  embarrasses  me  a great  deal,  to  find  you 
here.  You  will  understand  why  when  you  know  what  I 
have  come  to  ask  of  your  godfather.” 

She  relinquished  his  hands,  and  turning  towards  the 
Abbe,  said, — 

“ I have  come  to  beg  you  to  listen  to  my  confession, 
— yes,  my  confession.  But  do  not  go  away,  M.  Jean; 
I will  make  my  confession  publicly.  I am  quite  willing 
to  speak  before  you ; and  now  I think  of  it,  it  will  be 
better  thus.  Let  us  sit  down,  shall  we?” 

She  felt  herself  full  of  confidence  and  daring.  She 
burned  with  fever,  but  with  that  fever  which,  on  the  field 
of  battle,  gives  to  a soldier  ardor,  heroism,  and  disdain 
of  danger.  The  emotion  which  made  Bettina’s  heart 
beat  quicker  than  usual  was  a high  and  generous  emo- 
tion. She  said  to  herself,  — 

“ I will  be  loved ! I will  love ! I will  be  happy ! I 
will  make  him  happy ! And  since  he  cannot  have  the 
courage  to  do  it,  I must  have  it  for  both.  I must 
march  alone,  my  head  high,  and  my  heart  at  ease,  to 
the  conquest  of  our  love,  to  the  conquest  of  our 
happiness ! * 

From  her  first  words  Bettina  had  gained  over  the 
Abbe  and  Jean  a complete  ascendant.  They  let  her  say 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


205 


what  she  liked;  they  let  her  do  as  she  liked.  They  felt 
that  the  hour  was  supreme;  they  understood  that  what 
was  happening  would  be  decisive,  irrevocable,  but  neither 
was  in  a position  to  foresee. 

They  sat  down  obediently,  almost  automatically;  they 
waited ; they  listened.  Alone  of  the  three  Bettina  re- 
tained her  composure.  It  was  in  a calm  and  even  voice 
that  she  began : — 

“ I must  tell  you  first,  Monsieur  le  Cure,  to  set  your 
conscience  quite  at  rest,  — I must  tell  you  that  I am  here 
with  the  consent  of  my  sister  and  my  brother-in-law. 
They  know  why  I have  come ; they  know  what  I am 
going  to  do.  They  not  only  know,  but  they  approve. 
That  is  settled,  is  it  not?  Well,  what  brings  me  here  is 
your  letter,  M.  Jean,  — that  letter  in  which  you  tell  my 
sister  that  you  cannot  dine  with  us  this  evening,  and 
that  you  are  positively  obliged  to  leave  here.  This  let- 
ter has  unsettled  all  my  plans.  I had  intended  this 
evening  — of  course  with  the  permission  of  my  sister  and 
brother-in-law — I had  intended  after  dinner  to  take  you 
into  the  park  ; to  seat  myself  with  you  on  a bench.  I 
was  childish  enough  to  choose  the  place  beforehand. 
There  I should  have  delivered  a little  speech,  well  pre- 
pared, well  studied,  almost  learned  by  heart,  for  since  your 
departure  I have  scarcely  thought  of  anything  else;  I 
repeat  it  to  myself  from  morning  to  night.  That  is  what 
I had  proposed  to  do ; and  you  understand  that  your  let- 
ter caused  me  much  embarrassment.  I reflected  a little, 
and  thought  that  if  I addressed  my  little  speech  to  your 


206 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


godfather  it  would  be  almost  the  same  as  if  I addressed 
it  to  you.  So  I have  come,  Monsieur  le  Cure,  to  beg 
you  to  listen  to  me.” 

“ I will  listen  to  you,  Miss  Percival,”  stammered  the  Abbe. 

“I  am  rich,  Monsieur  le  Cure,  I am  very  rich;  and  to 
speak  frankly  I love  my  wealth  very  much,  — yes,  very 
much.  To  it  I owe  the  luxury  which  surrounds  me,  — 
luxury  which,  I acknowledge  (it  is  a confession),  is  by 
no  means  disagreeable  to  me.  My  excuse  is  that  I am 
still  very  young;  it  will  perhaps  pass  as  I grow  older, 
but  of  that  I am  not  very  sure.  I have  another  excuse; 
it  is  that  if  I love  money  a little  for  the  pleasure  that  it 
procures  me,  I love  it  still  more  for  the  good  which  it 
allows  me  to  do.  I love  it  — selfishly,  if  you  like  — for 
the  joy  of  giving;  but  I think  that  my  fortune  is  not 
very  badly  placed  in  my  hands.  Well,  Monsieur  le 

Cure,  in  the  same  way  that  you  have  the  care  of  souls 

it  seems  that  I have  the  care  of  money.  I have  always 
thought:  ‘I  wish,  above  all  things,  that  my  husband 

should  be  worthy  of  sharing  this  great  fortune.  I wish 
to  be  very  sure  that  he  will  make  a good  use  of  it  with 
me  while  I am  here,  and  after  me  if  I must  leave  this 
world  first.’  I thought  of  another  thing;  I thought,  'He 
who  will  be  my  husband  must  be  some  one  I can  love  ! ’ 
And  now,  Monsieur  le  Cure,  this  is  where  my  confession 
really  begins.  There  is  a man  who  for  the  last  two 

months  has  done  all  he  can  to  conceal  from  me  that  he 
loves  me ; but  I do  not  doubt  that  this  man  loves  me. 
You  do  love  me,  Jean?” 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


207 


“ Yes,”  said  Jean,  in  a low  voice,  his  eyes  cast  down, 
looking  like  a criminal,  “ I do  love  you  ! ” 

“ I knew  it  very  well,  but  I wanted  to  hear  you  say 
it;  and  now,  I entreat  you,  do  not  utter  a single  word. 
Any  words  of  yours  would  be  useless,  would  disturb  me, 
would  prevent  me  from  going  straight  to  my  aim,  and 
telling  you  what  I positively  intend  to  say.  Promise  me 
to  stay  there,  sitting  still,  without  moving,  without  speak- 
ing. You  promise  me?” 

“ I promise  you.” 

Bettina,  as  she  went  on  speaking,  began  to  lose  a little 
of  her  confidence;  her  voice  trembled  slightly.  She  con- 
tinued, however,  with  a gayety  that  was  a little  forced. 

“ Monsieur  le  Cure,  I do  not  blame  you  for  what  has 
happened,  yet  all  this  is  a little  your  fault.” 

“ My  fault ! ” 

“ Ah ! do  not  speak,  not  even  you.  Yes,  I repeat  it, 
your  fault.  I am  certain  that  you  have  spoken  well  of 
me  to  Jean,  much  too  well.  Perhaps  without  that  he 
would  not  have  thought — And  at  the  same  time,  you 
have  spoken  very  well  of  him  to  me.  Not  too  well  — 
no,  no! — but  yet  very  well!  Then  I had  so  much  con- 
fidence in  you  that  I began  to  look  at  him  and  exam- 
ine him  with  a little  more  attention.  I began  to  compare 
him  with  those  who  during  the  last  year  had  asked  my 
hand.  It  seemed  to  me  that  he  was  in  every  respect 
superior  to  them. 

“ At  last  it  happened  on  a certain  day,  or  rather  on  a cer- 
tain evening  — three  weeks  ago,  the  evening  before  you 


208 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


left  here,  Jean — I discovered  that  I loved  you.  Yes,  Jean, 
I love  you  ! I entreat  you,  do  not  speak.  Stay  where  you 
are ; do  not  come  near  me. 

“ Before  I came  here  I thought  I had  supplied  myself 
with  a good  stock  of  courage,  but  you  see  I have  no  longer 
my  fine  composure  of  a minute  ago.  But  I have  still  some- 
thing to  tell  you,  and  the  most  important  of  all.  Jean, 
listen  to  me  well : I do  not  wish  for  a reply  torn  from 
your  emotion ; I know  that  you  love  me.  If  you  marry 
me,  I do  not  wish  it  to  be  only  for  love;  I wish  it  to  be 
also  for  reason.  During  the  fortnight  before  you  left  here, 
you  took  so  much  pains  to  avoid  me,  to  escape  any  conver- 
sation, that  I have  not  been  able  to  show  myself  to  you  as  I 
am.  Perhaps  there  are  in  me  certain  qualities  which  you  do 
not  suspect. 

“ Jean,  I know  what  you  are,  I know  to  what  I should 
bind  myself  in  marrying  you ; and  I would  be  for  you  not 
only  the  loving  and  tender  woman  but  the  courageous  and 
constant  wife.  I know  your  entire  life ; your  godfather  has 
related  it  to  me.  I know  why  you  became  a soldier;  I 
know  what  duties,  what  sacrifices,  the  future  may  demand 
from  you.  Jean,  do  not  suppose  that  I will  turn  you  from 
any  of  these  duties,  from  any  of  these  sacrifices.  If  I could 
be  disappointed  with  you  for  anything,  it  would  be  perhaps 
for  this  thought  — oh!  you  must  have  had  it  — that  I 
should  wish  you  free  and  quite  my  own,  that  I should  ask 
you  to  abandon  your  career.  Never!  never!  Understand 
well,  I will  never  ask  such  a thing  of  you. 

“ A young  girl  whom  I know  did  that  when  she  married, 


UBRW‘1 
OF  THE 

WCRSIT'  OF  ttJUHt  t 


The  Abbe  Constantin . 


2 1 1 


and  she  did  wrong.  I love  you,  and  I wish  you  to  be  just 
what  you  are.  It  is  because  you  live  differently  from,  and 
better  than  those  who  have  before  desired  me  for  a wife, 
that  I desire  you  for  a husband.  I should  love  you  less  — 
perhaps  I should  not  love  you  at  all,  though  that  would  be 
very  difficult  — if  you  were  to  begin  to  live  as  all  those  live 
whom  I would  not  have.  When  I can  follow  you,  I will 
follow  you.  Wherever  you  are  will  be  my  duty;  wherever 
you  are  will  be  my  happiness.  And  if  the  day  comes  when 
you  cannot  take  me,  the  day  when  you  must  go  alone,  well, 
Jean,  on  that  day  I promise  you  to  be  brave,  and  not  take 
your  courage  from  you. 

“ And  now,  Monsieur  le  Cure,  it  is  not  to  him,  it  is  to  you 
that  I am  speaking;  I want  you  to  answer  me,  not  him. 
Tell  me,  if  he  loves  me,  and  feels  me  worthy  of  his  love, 
would  it  be  just  to  make  me  expiate  so  severely  the  fortune 
that  I possess?  Tell  me,  should  he  not  agree  to  be  my 
husband?  ” 

“ Jean,”  said  the  old  priest,  gravely,  “ marry  her.  It  is 
your  duty  and  it  will  be  your  happiness ! ” 


V 

Jean  approached  Bettina,  took  her  in  his  arms,  and  pressed 
upon  her  brow  the  first  kiss. 

Bettina  gently  freed  herself,  and  addressing  the  Abbe,  said  : 
“ And  now,  Monsieur  l’Abbe,  I have  still  one  thing  to 
ask  you.  I wish  — I wish  — ” 

“ You  wish?  ” 

“ Pray,  Monsieur  le  Cure,  embrace  me  too.” 

The  old  priest  kissed  her  paternally  on  both  cheeks,  and 
then  Bettina  continued,  — 


2 I 2 


The.  Abbe  Constantin . 


“You  have  often  told  me,  Monsieur  le  Cure,  that  Jean 
was  almost  like  your  own  son ; and  I shall  be  almost  like 
your  own  daughter,  shall  I not?  So  you  will  have  two 
children,  that  is  all.” 


,A  month  after,  on  the  12th  of  September,  at  midday, 
Bettina,  in  the  simplest  of  wedding  dresses,  entered  the 
church  of  Longueval,  while,  placed  behind  the  altar,  the 
trumpets  of  the  Ninth  Artillery  rang  joyously  through 
the  arches  of  the  old  church. 

Nancy  Turner  had  begged  for  the  honor  of  playing  the  * 
organ  on  this  solemn  occasion,  for  the  poor  little  harmonium 
had  disappeared.  An  organ  with  resplendent  pipes  rose  in 
the  gallery  of  the  church ; it  was  Miss  Percival’s  wedding 
present  to  the  Abbe  Constantin. 

The  old  Cure  said  mass;  Jean  and  Bettina  knelt  before 
him.  He  pronounced  the  benediction  and  then  remained 
for  some  moments  in  prayer,  his  arms  extended,  calling 
down  with  his  whole  soul  the  blessings*  of  Heaven  on 
his  two  children; 

Then  floated  from  the  organ  the  same  revery  of  Chopin’s 
which  Bettina  had  played  the  first  time  that  she  had  entered 
that  little  village  church  where  was  to  be  consecrated  the 
happiness  of  her  life. 

And  this  time  it  was  Bettina  who  wept. 


— — .. 


/ 


